


choke on me

by imperialstark



Series: breathe me in [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Avengers Tower, Barebacking, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Biting, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Bottom Tony Stark, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Canon-Typical Violence, Carnival, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Dirty Talk, Domestic Avengers, Emotional Sex, Exhibitionism, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Avengers, Shameless Steve Rogers, Shower Sex, Smut, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Team as Family, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Has Self-Esteem Issues, Tony Stark Has Trust Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, Top Steve Rogers, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26325124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperialstark/pseuds/imperialstark
Summary: After fending off an alien invasion, Tony Stark has one more obstacle to face; Steve Rogers. Steve believes that they have a connection which Tony is trying hard to ignore. After a moment of passion aboard the helicarrier, Tony can't seem to stay away from Steve as their lives grow ever more intertwined.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: breathe me in [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912873
Comments: 83
Kudos: 250





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Auggusst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auggusst/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony deal with the fallout of their hookup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all surprised me with your reactions to _breathe me in_ to the point where I was inspired to write this sequel where Tony and Steve are dumb and have sex with each other repeatedly. Sounds good? Good. If you stumbled upon this and haven't read _breathe me in_ , I suggest that you go check that fic out first as it sets up the events of this fic.

Romanov’s eyes narrow when Tony and Steve enter the briefing room. 

The fact that they’re even _having_ a meeting after a literal alien invasion makes Tony seethe. Bureaucracy never sleeps, he guesses. (He’s _not_ pissed because SHIELD commandeered one of the rooms in _his_ tower. Honest.) 

Tony arches a brow at Romanov. She’s a clever one, she has to be for her line of work, but Tony’s clever, too. He knows that to beat her at her own game, he has to play into it. 

“You’re late,” she says, in lieu of a greeting. Compared to the rest of them, she looks quite put together. Not a hair out of place, the cut on her forehead cleaned and bandaged. The archer—Barton, his brain supplies—sits with his feet propped on the table like a goddamn _heathen_. Tony doesn’t say anything, though. Barton’s eyes have a faraway look; the archer’s mind is on anything but social etiquette right now. Even Thor, who’s a supposed god, looks a bit winded with one hand on his hammer and the other propping up his face. Bruce is full-on asleep, not that Tony blames him, with a shock blanket strewn about his shoulders. 

“Fury isn’t here yet,” Tony says, sounding like a little kid arguing with his sister. 

Natasha hums, and her eyes flit over to Steve. “You two look friendly.” 

Steve, bless his heart, blushes but doesn’t say anything, and Tony’s just reminded of how he looked when he came down Tony’s throat; head thrown back, mouth open, and skin flushed.

Tony swallows down the sudden lump that arose in his throat and scrambles to come up with something, _anything_ , to not blow their cover. He doesn’t want it to get out that he and Steve had got up to _something_.

“I was being a good host,” Tony says. “Steve wanted to see the tower. Or...what’s left of it.”

“It’s ‘Steve’ now?” she says with interest, and Tony curses her. He walked right into that one. 

Fortunately, Tony’s good at thinking on his toes. “Alright, you caught me, Romanov. I just spent the last half hour rocking Rogers’ world.” 

Steve chokes, and Tony jams his elbow into his side. Steve coughs into his arm and clears his throat. 

It’s got Romanov’s attention. And everyone else’s, apparently. Bruce is still sleeping, but Barton’s turned his eyes onto them, that faraway look receding slightly. Thor’s sitting up now, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. 

Romanov’s eyes roam from him to Steve and back again before she snorts. 

Tony’s surprised she can even make such a noise. 

“Fine,” she says. “Keep your secrets.” Somehow she makes it sound like a threat. 

“You’re seriously gonna leave it, Nat?” Barton asks.

“You didn’t see them before,” Romanov says, leaning back into her seat. “Rogers wouldn’t touch Stark with a ten-foot pole.”

Okay, that fucking _hurts_ , but before Tony can even open his mouth to argue, because what the _fuck_ Romanov, Fury stalks into the room with his duster flapping behind him. 

If Tony weren’t so pissed, he’d make a snide comment about Severus Snape. 

“Are you two going to sit down, or should I reschedule this meeting?” Fury says. 

Tony grits his teeth but sits down (far away from Romanov), and Steve sits next to him. 

They elect Thor to nudge Bruce awake, who looks at them with bleary eyes and his hair askew.

Steve places a big hand on Tony’s thigh underneath the table. It feels like a brand. 

The meeting is agonizingly slow and painful, and Tony wishes they all would leave. Barton and Thor almost come to blows over what they’re to do with Loki, but in the end, they decide to let the Asgardian face punishment in his own land, far, _far_ away from Earth. 

“It’s not fair,” Barton hisses, his hand balling into a fist when Fury leaves the room with Thor on his coattails to collect his brother. “His daddy,” Barton spits out the word like a curse, “won’t punish him.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Bruce says, stifling a yawn. “Odin exiled Thor to earth when he disappointed him.”

“Banner’s got a point,” Romanov says. “I want him to pay, just as much as you,” she admits. “But how would we even go about punishing a _god_?” 

“I have ideas,” Barton says, and Tony flashes back to Afghanistan, to three months of darkness and dampness and death, and he understands Barton’s rage. 

“I’m sure you do,” Romanov says. “Pass them along to Thor and see how he takes them.”

“Or better yet, tell me,” Tony finds himself saying. Four pairs of eyes shoot to him. If he were a lesser man, he would have wilted under the sudden attention. “I’ve got a bone to pick with Reindeer Games, too.” 

“Yeah?” Barton says, crossing his arms. 

“Seriously,” Tony says. “Now that we know that beings like Loki and Thor exist, shouldn’t we be prepared for others like them?”

“Stark’s right,” Steve says. Tony tries to hide the surprise on his face. Were his blowjob skills that good? Steve squeezes his thigh in response. “Who’s to say that Loki was the last of them?” 

Tony’s skin prickles. The others may have fought the Chitauri, but Tony had _seen_ them and what lay beyond them. He had always been good at seeing the forest behind the trees. He had a feeling that they had barely scraped the surface with the Chitauri. There was something or _someone_ more vicious, more bloodthirsty than any other foe they had fought combined. 

All of the Avengers seemed to sober at that thought. 

“Well, we’ll just have to be ready, won’t we?” Romanov says, her voice cutting through the silence.

“We also deserve a day off,” Barton says. “At least I do. I don’t know about the rest of you slackers.” 

That defuses the tension in the room, just a bit. Bruce lets out a light chuckle while Natasha just rolls her eyes. 

“Oh, please, if anybody carried this team, it was me,” Natasha says. 

Steve’s hand leaves Tony’s thigh and slides up to the small of his back. Some of the tension leaves his shoulders as he leans back into Steve’s touch. Tony doesn’t know what Steve wants. He doesn’t know if their little tryst was just that or if there was room for more. Tony doesn’t like not knowing things. But he’ll let Steve have this, for now.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I didn’t see anybody else carry a nuke on their shoulders into an interdimensional wormhole.” 

He waits for the snide comments, the jeers, the disgust to cross their faces but instead...instead they laugh. And it’s not a laugh of derision; Tony’s heard enough of those to recognize them. These are real, genuine laughs. 

“Fair,” Barton says, the corners of his lips quirking up. 

“No, not fair! Only two of us can fly,” Romanov says. 

“Can Thor really fly?” Bruce says. “I feel like it’s more of a controlled fall. He throws his hammer and lets the weight of it take him where he needs to go.” 

“He’s in the air, he’s moving, as far as I’m concerned, it’s flying,” Barton says. 

Tony and Barton end up arguing the semantics of flying over a finger of Tony’s best scotch, Bruce occasionally chiming in, Romanov and Steve looking on in amusement. 

They’re annoying, Tony thinks. They’re annoying and loud and destructive and—

Tony is starting to _like_ them. His feelings had always crept up on him like a lion stalking its prey, only pouncing when he least expected it. He was starting to like them, even _Romanov_ , who he was still kind of pissed at for her earlier comment. But he didn’t blame her. Why would Steve want to touch _him_? Tony had practically thrown himself at him.

“ _He pulled you in_ ,” his mind supplies, trying to be helpful. “ _He pulled you in, and he kissed the living daylights out of you_.”

But maybe Steve had been desperate? Desperation drove men to crazy lengths, including sleeping with your...enemies? That wasn’t right. It held too many negative connotations, and despite their rough start, Tony didn’t think he would ever fight _against_ Steve. Rivals? Or was that too petty? Just what the hell _were_ they? 

The state of his and Steve’s relationship (if he can even call it that) nags at him. The others start making their leave until Steve and Tony are the only ones left. 

The boardroom feels like a matchbox with Steve so close to him with no buffer. Steve’s making himself useful and tidying up the papers and glasses strewn about the table. Tony pours himself another finger of scotch, lets the whiskey burn his throat on the way down. He needed something to ground himself. His eyes follow Steve’s every movement like magnets. Heat blossoms low in his belly when he remembers how Steve had touched him like he was nothing but a toy for Steve’s pleasure. The thought shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does. 

Tony clears his throat, catching Steve’s attention. 

“Some meeting,” Tony starts and immediately wants to slap himself. He should just get to the point. Why even bother with small talk? 

“You’re telling me,” Steve says carefully. Always so careful. Except for when his hands are shoved down Tony’s pants. 

Tony shifts in his seat and hopes that Steve won’t notice, but of course, when do things ever work out the way Tony wants them to? Steve’s eyes track his movements with all the purpose of someone used to analyzing situations. Is that what Steve thinks is about to happen? A battle? 

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks, setting down a stack of papers. 

“Sticky,” Tony says, deadpan. They hadn’t gotten the chance to clean off after their little...excursion on the helicarrier. 

Tony expects for him to blush like he did earlier after his standoff with Romanov. But instead, the bastard _grins_ at him. 

“My bad,” Steve says. “Any other time, I’m pretty good at uh, cleaning up.” 

Tony throws back the last of his scotch and tries not to think of Steve on his knees licking at Tony’s thighs and groin and—

It’s not working. But then Tony remembers Romanov; “ _Steve wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole_ ,” and any desire he had dies. He should nip this in the bud now. They are absolutely not having a repeat performance. 

“Good thing it was a one-off,” Tony says, hoping his voice comes off light and airy. “Otherwise, I’d be pissed.” 

Steve’s smile falls, and if Tony didn’t feel like an asshole before, he sure as hell does now. 

“Oh.” 

“Just a little favor between two pals, right?” Tony says just to dig the knife in a little deeper. “ _Let him hate me_ ,” he thinks. “ _It’s_ _easier that way_.” 

“Right.” Steve clears his throat. “I, uh, guess I’ll get going.” 

Part of Tony wants to latch onto his arm, pull him through the glass and the rubble of his penthouse suite, and into his bedroom and never let him go. He stomps that urge down with steel-toed boots. 

“See you around, Steve,” he says as Steve makes for the door. 

Steve pauses at the threshold and doesn’t look at him when he replies, “See you around, Tony.”

* * *

Life goes on. Tony reunites with Pepper. Tony’s mansion gets blown up. He loses Pepper for the final time. 

And it’s fine, really. Being cool with terrorists blowing up your home and experimenting on you without your consent is a lot to ask of anyone, even if that person is Pepper Potts. 

Pepper kisses him on the cheek, and Tony knows it’s the end. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. 

“It’s okay,” he says, and he means it. Because Pepper is still his and he’s still hers, just not in the way they had originally wanted. 

So, he’s single and homeless, technically, but overall it’s not the worst year of Tony’s life. 

He thinks about rebuilding his mansion in Malibu, but something stops him. 

“New York?” Rhodey asks him over Skype, curiosity twisting his features. 

“Yeah,” Tony says, clutching a pillow to his chest. He’s currently staying at one of his vacation homes on the Amalfi coast. His bedroom has a perfect view of the sea. Every evening, he sits out on his balcony and tries not to think about how Steve’s eyes are the exact color of the Mediterranean at sunset. 

“Malibu feels like an old chapter of my life. I think I’m ready for something new.” 

Italy is lovely, but Tony is so lonely. He’s never been good by himself. 

Within a month, the renovations on Stark Tower are completed, and Tony makes his move to New York. 

It’s odd, living by himself again. Of course, Tony brought his bots with him, and he integrated JARVIS into all of his personal residences. Still, there was no Pepper to remind him of some upcoming awards ceremony, no Rhodey to get into trouble with. Happy went with him because wherever Tony went, Happy followed. Tony’s sure Happy would have followed him into battle if he could. But Happy doesn’t stay in the tower, and Tony doesn’t expect him to. He knows Happy has a life outside of chauffeuring (and he hasn’t missed the looks between Happy and Pepper whenever she’s in town. He’s happy for them.) 

That’s when he starts collecting Avengers like a kid collecting those little trading cards when Tony was in college. Digimon? Pokémon? It was something that ended in -mon, he was sure of that. 

Bruce shows up first, drawn to the idea of a bed to sleep in, a constant food source, and a (relative) lack of people shooting at him. 

Bruce brings warmth to his tower, where there had been nothing but the coldness of electricity and steel. Sometimes when their research aligns, they’ll spend hours together in Bruce’s workshop. They’re good for each other, he thinks. Bruce gets him to eat a real meal and even stops DUM-E from putting motor oil in his smoothies. Tony gets him to open up. He wants to get to know the man behind the Hulk. For a moment, they’re at peace. 

Then SHIELD falls. 

Things get more complicated after that. 

Steve and Natasha show up with Clint right behind them. They’re still healing from their injuries, but overall they’re okay. Aside from dumping hundreds of SHIELD/HYDRA’s secrets onto the world wide web. 

Tony takes them in because, despite _everything_ that happened between him and Steve, he did offer him a place to stay. Tony’s not that much of an asshole. He’s not going to retract on that offer.

Besides, his tower is enormous, and he knows it like the back of his hand; it takes nothing for him to avoid Steve without making it obvious. 

However, Tony didn’t account for the sudden friendship between Steve and Natasha, the traitor. (He doesn’t know when she stopped being just Romanov in his head.) 

Natasha must have been trailing him to learn his schedule because Steve corners him right as he’s leaving his workshop to head up to Bruce’s floor. His fellow scientist was making curry, and Tony didn’t want to miss out before the other Avengers (vultures) devoured it. 

“Can we talk?” Steve asks, leaning against the wall with his hands shoved into his pockets. 

Tony stops in his tracks and immediately wants to do a full 180 back to his workshop and not come out for a good ten, twenty years. _Stark Industries_ is in good hands, and Rhodey can take over for him on the team, and he can live in his workshop like Gollum in his cave—

“Tony?” 

His eyes snap up to Steve. Right. They were having a conversation. Tony’s self-loathing can kick in later. 

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Sure. Let’s head up here,” he gestures to the living area situated by the staircase. This floor of the tower serves as Tony’s second home, an escape from all of his penthouse suite’s showy glamour and the lack of privacy on the communal floors. The penthouse suite reminds him too much of Pepper, anyway.

There’s a small but up to date kitchenette off to their right done up in polished mahogany, tan stone, and black appliances for whenever hunger strikes. Tony heads to the left with Steve following behind him. His living area also functions as a bedroom of sorts. Tony had invested in a plush brown leather sofa from a high-end Italian furniture manufacturer. Sinfully soft and draped in luxurious throw blankets, it served as both a sofa and his bed when he couldn’t be bothered to take the elevator to his penthouse suite.

In a strange role reversal of the last time the two of them had been alone, Steve grabs onto his wrist and pins Tony down with his stare. 

“We can talk right here.”

Tony swallows. “Okay. Sure. That works, too.” He looks down pointedly at Steve’s hand. 

Steve flushes but lets Tony go. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve starts. 

“No harm done,” Tony says coolly. On the inside, he’s trying not to scream. He had forgotten that Steve’s hands were so _big_. 

“I just needed to know…” Steve hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Did I...did I do something wrong?”

And that, that makes Tony blink. 

Steve pushes on. “On the helicarrier...did I come on to you too strong? Because if I did, that wasn’t my intention at all—”

Tony holds up his hands. “Wait, _what_? That’s what you want to talk about? Steve, it’s been _two_ years.”

“I know! I know it’s just...we haven’t spoken at all about...the _thing,_ and you’ve been avoiding me ever since I stepped foot in this place.”

“I—”

“And don’t say you haven’t,” Steve says with a hard stare. “I’m old, not an idiot.”

“Okay,” Tony says. “Okay. I guess you could call it _avoiding_.”

“Why?” Steve asks. “I’d rather you just tell me.”

Tony sighs. He’s too old to be having this conversation and telling Steve the truth would just be mortifying. “ _Romanov hurt my feelings, so I pushed you away before you could do it to me_ ,” sounds pathetic, even to his ears. 

“ _A half-truth then. A lie grounded in reality_ ,” he thinks. 

“You want to know why?” 

A muscle in Steve’s jaw jumps. “Yes. I would.”

“It wasn’t your fault, trust me,” Tony says. “I just feel like maybe you didn’t want to jump headfirst into _this_ ,” Tony gestures between them. He won’t dare call it a relationship. “I came onto you out of nowhere and didn’t even stop to think about whether or not you were ready for...anything.” He’s talking in circles and what’s worse is that he _knows_ he’s talking in circles. Every muscle in his body is taut, waiting for Steve’s reaction. 

“You blew me off,” Steve says slowly, “because you thought I wasn’t ready for... _this?_ ” He’s taken on Tony’s terminology. 

“You were fresh out the ice, Steve. I figured the last thing you needed on your plate was something like _this_ while you were still getting used to the 21st century.”

“Tony,” Steve speaks his name so softly it feels like a caress. Tony wants to step back. He wants to put on the suit and fly to Malibu, to Amalfi, to anywhere but _here_. 

“Tony, I don’t regret what we did,” Steve says. There’s a determined light in his eyes. Tony feels like the prey again. Steve has always made him feel like he’s being hunted. 

“Okay,” Tony says, steeling himself. 

“I want to do it again,” Steve says. “If that’s alright with you.” 

Steve wants to do it again. He wants to fuck Tony again, and the scary thing is, Tony’s going to let him. Arousal pools in his belly as he lifts his head to look at Steve head-on. 

“Okay,” he says. His voice already sounds wrecked. Desperate. Then Steve’s on him.

Tony hates how he falls into Steve’s arms as soon as his lips meet Tony’s. He had thought once would be enough, just enough to satiate the burning in his blood. He hated being wrong. 

Steve’s kisses are sloppy, almost desperate, but if anything, it just winds Tony up more. It’s like he’s fallen ill, with a feverish heat spreading throughout his body in waves. His heart pounds so loudly, it nearly drowns out the words Steve murmurs when he finally pulls away from Tony. 

Steve’s face is devoid of all masks, his lips pink against his flushed skin. 

“ _I did that_ ,” Tony thinks with some wonder. “ _I made him this way_.” 

“What?” Tony says, only a little dazed, or so he hopes. Part of him flinches at the thought of Steve realizing just how far this well of desire he has building beneath his skin goes for him. 

“Don’t run,” Steve says. His arms wind around Tony’s waist with all the finality of a lock clicking into place. 

Tony swallows, his brain trying to parse through the hazy cloud of lust that had descended upon his brain. Steve’s eyes are big and so fucking _blue_ , he almost can’t look at them directly. 

“ _It’s like looking at the sun,_ ” he thinks. 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he finds himself saying. 

“ _Just one more time_. _Just to get him out of my system.”_

Steve’s eyes narrow like he knows exactly where Tony’s brain went, and isn’t that a terrifying thought that Steve can already read him so well. Steve doesn’t call him out. Instead, he kisses Tony. 

Steve kisses him like a thief, all greedy and ruthless, stealing his breath away. Steve walks them backward until Tony feels his legs hit his sofa. They stumble onto the couch, Steve lying on top of him, eclipsing Tony. 

Steve’s lips are on his again. He can’t get enough of Tony today, it seems. His tongue slips into Tony’s mouth, one of his hands running down his chest and into his pants. Tony arches into his touch, moaning into Steve’s mouth. Steve may be a thief, but in this moment, Tony is just as willing to give him everything he has. 

Steve’s hands are so _big_ and hot as they palm at Tony’s length. It doesn’t take long for him to harden in Steve’s grasp. 

Steve works him over with quick strokes of his hand, breaking their kiss to murmur in his ear, “Come on, baby. Spread these legs for me.” 

Tony did as he was bid, letting his knees fall open. 

“That’s it,” Steve says. 

“Can I?” Tony begins, unsure of how to continue. He’d never been shy during sex, but what he and Steve were doing, as much as Tony stomped it down, felt _deeper_ than a simple hookup. 

“Go ahead, baby,” Steve says. The pet name flows off his tongue like honey. “Tell me what you need.” 

“I want to touch you,” he declares. “Let me?” He looks at Steve and hopes his eyes look wide and sweet. He remembers how Steve had snapped the last time he had looked at him like that, the bruising kisses and the hard, almost punishing way Steve had gotten him off…

Steve gives him a crooked smile. Tony’s not...disappointed, per se, but he wouldn’t have minded it if Steve had lost control again.

“Go ahead,” Steve says. “Whatever that big brain of yours has in mind.” 

That’s all the permission Tony needs, and his own hands work at the fly of Steve’s jeans until he’s pulling Steve’s cock loose. Steve catches on quick and shucks his jeans down to his thighs. He yanks Tony’s sweatpants down in one swift motion. This is the most exposed Tony has been in front of anyone since his relationship with Pepper burst into flames. And listen, Tony knows he’s not ugly (he’d been named Sexiest Man Alive twice, up there with George Clooney _and_ Brad Pitt), but Steve is the literal epitome of human perfection. It could just be the childhood trauma rearing its ugly head, but Tony feels small underneath Steve. Unworthy. Useless. He’s thrown back to the present when Steve rolls his hips and slides his cock against Tony’s. 

“Come on, genius,” Steve says. “Work with me.” 

Tony lifts his hips to meet Steve, and the hot slide of flesh against flesh leaves him gasping like a virgin. 

“Fuck,” Steve hisses. “Just like that.” 

They settle into an easy, almost instinctive rhythm, Steve thrusting, Tony rising to meet him. Their groins are slick with sweat and precome. Tony’s sure that if they had bothered to get some lube, they wouldn’t have lasted half as long. It’s like someone’s turned a dial up on his senses. Wherever Steve touches him, his cock rubbing against Tony’s, is like someone lit a bundle of matches. He’s so hot, he’s sure his skin is smoking. He can hear everything. The hum of electricity present throughout his tower if you listened hard enough, Steve’s muttered curses, the wetness of Steve’s cock rocking against his. 

“One day,” Steve says, picking up speed. “One day, I’m gonna tie you to your bed just like this. Get your thighs all wet and slick and _fuck_ you until you’re coming all over your goddamn stomach,” Steve punctuates his words with a hard thrust, and that’s _it_ for Tony. One more word out of Steve’s mouth and he’s done for. 

“Holy shit, Rogers,” he says, sounding breathless to his ears. 

“I’m not done, sweetheart,” Steve chuckles. “How do you feel about toys?” 

“Yes. _Yes. Fuck_ , Steve, I could make them. Anything you want.” 

And he finds himself meaning it. He’d give Steve the sun if he asked. He tries not to let that scare him. 

“How about a nice vibrating cock ring, hmm? Slip it on you early in the morning. Maybe a long-distance remote to go with it, keep you hard and ready all day long.”

Tony bites back a cry, his cock jumping with arousal. “Fuck, Steve, _yes_ , please, _yes_.” 

“Then don’t run,” Steve says, his voice sounding all dark and gritty. “Don’t run, and I’ll give you everything you fucking want, just don’t run away from me, _again._ ” 

Afterward, Tony blames it on his approaching orgasm, but in that moment, all Tony can say is, “Yes, _fuck_ , I’m staying right here.” 

They come together, oddly enough. Steve’s teeth sink into Tony’s throat, and Tony’s throwing his head back as his come lands on both of their stomachs, and it’s so. Fucking. _Good._

Tony’s floating. He didn’t know when his couch turned into a cloud, but he’s floating with Steve kissing the bite he left on his neck. 

They curl close together, uncaring of the mess cooling on their stomachs. If Tony has anything to say about it, there’s a nice joint shower waiting for them when they find the will to move. Steve places one final kiss on the bite. 

Tony knows what it is. A marker. A claim. He’s Steve’s for as long as Steve will have him. Tony’s willing to indulge him. For now. 

“Shower later?” he asks, his words thick and syrupy from post-orgasmic bliss and the sudden need for a nap. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open, but he doesn’t want to stop looking at Steve’s handsome face. His perfectly coiffed blond hair is mussed. Steve’s skin has taken on a peachy, damn near radiant glow. “Nap first,” Steve says. 

“ _Steve may have left his mark_ ,” he thinks. “ _But I left mine_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 to this fic should be coming soon-ish, I've already started to draft it and actually have a fic outline written out. Feel free to yell at me on my [tumblr](https://imperialstark.tumblr.com) to update this fic or if you just want more stony/marvel content.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's in denial but Steve's no quitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I _know_ it's been like two months but to be fair this chapter was a goddamn beast. If you guys noticed, I changed the chapter count on the fic. That's because while I was writing this chapter, I somehow accidentally injected it with a plot so whoops this isn't a porn without plot anymore. Like it got so long I had to split it up. 
> 
> Regardless, I know things are getting really stressful right now (like they weren't before 🙄) and I hope this chapter gives you all a little break from reality. Chapter 3 which is really just part 2 of chapter 2 is already written, it just needs to be revised and edited. You guys are getting a special treat in that one. 😉 
> 
> Friendly reminder that I don't own Marvel or the MCU, and this fic is just for fun.
> 
> Anyway enough about me, and enough about life, on with the fic!

The heat of the shower works wonders on Tony’s muscles. He stands directly under the spray letting the water cascade down his back. He’s proud of himself. For the longest, after escaping from that awful cave, he couldn’t stand the sight of water, let alone submerge himself in it. 

Baths were still an obstacle for him, but showers he could do on a good day. 

The shower door slides open, letting in a gust of cold air. Tony shivers at the sudden temperature change...and at who’s joining him. 

Steve slides the door shut and walks up to him until he's flush with Tony's back.

“Running away from me, already?” he murmurs into Tony’s ear. Steve’s like a furnace, heat coming off of him in waves. The shower has gone from mildly hot to scorching. 

“No,” Tony says, raising his voice so Steve can hear him over the rush of the water. “Made a promise, remember?” 

Steve hums and wraps his arms around Tony’s waist like he’s afraid Tony’s going to vanish into thin air. “Good,” he says and presses a kiss to Tony’s neck. 

“Ah,” Tony hisses as Steve plants another kiss right over his bite mark. 

“Sensitive?” Steve says against his skin. 

Tony turns around in Steve’s arms to look him in his face. 

Steve’s eyes are dark, and the bastard’s _smirking_. Who even smirks in real life? 

The water has turned his hair, darkening it from gold to honey. Tony’s stomach lurches as his eyes go down from Steve’s face...to the planes of his chest...and his thighs and—

Oh. 

He’s fucked. 

Quite literally, given how thick Steve’s cock is, and steadily rising. 

“Quite,” Tony finally says. “Not all of us have super healing abilities, Captain.” 

“Captain?” Steve arches a brow. 

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Tony didn’t know when he started leaning forward. 

“A little bit,” Steve whispers and meets him halfway. 

Tony closes his eyes and simply lets himself _be_. Life consists of nothing but warmth and water and Steve’s lips. 

_"Let all of the doubt and self-loathing and intrusive thoughts come later."_ Tony wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, moaning into his mouth when Steve’s hands slide lower to cup his ass. 

Steve backs him into the tile, turning them away from the direct onslaught of the shower. 

It scares him how quickly Steve is learning his body. His fingers and tongue work tirelessly to make him burst into flames, and Tony _wants_ to be consumed by him. 

Steve sinks to his knees, looking at Tony the entire while. His jaw drops like he’s in some cheesy over-acted high school play, but _fuck_ , does the sight of Steve on his knees make his brain short-circuit. 

“Can I?” Steve asks, his eyes darker than Tony had ever seen them. 

Tony doesn’t hesitate. “Fuck, yes, you can.”

Steve’s answering grin is sharp, something smug and possessive hiding behind it. 

His hand wraps around Tony’s length, stroking him to full hardness until Tony’s practically sobbing. 

“Steve, _please_ ,” he says, not recognizing his own voice. His cock pulses in Steve's hands. “Please, I need your mouth.” 

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” 

Tony gasps when Steve takes him into his mouth. It’s a struggle not to come right there, down Steve’s throat, but who could blame him? This was years of adolescent fantasies coming to life. 

Steve, with his hair glistening like a halo, his skin slick and golden. On his knees, practically worshipping Tony like a suppliant at the altar. 

Steve works Tony over with the ease of someone used to spending time on his knees, suckling at the head of his cock, letting his tongue dip into Tony’s slit to lap at the precome pooling there. 

Steve groans when Tony slides his hands into Steve’s hair, thrusting his hips shallowly into his mouth. He pulls off of Tony's cock, and Tony whines at the loss of his mouth. 

"Tony," Steve says, eyes burning. "Don't hold back on me, baby. I can take it." 

"Are you sure?" Steve may be a super-soldier, but Tony's not going to be the one stuck explaining to Fury that Captain America was out of commission because of a blowjob gone wrong. 

"Trust me," Steve says, grinning. "I can do this all day."

"Okay. Fuck, okay, Steve," Tony finds himself saying. It's hard to say no when Steve looks like _this_ , lips swollen, eyes blown wide and begging to suck Tony off. 

Tony presses forward, nudging his cock against Steve's lips, who gladly takes him back into his mouth. Steve's mouth is so _hot_ and _wet_ and true to his word, Tony doesn't hold back. He fists his hands into Steve's hair and bucks his hips forward, savoring the warmth. Steve takes his cock like he was made for it, his big hands settling on Tony's thighs in a bruising grip. 

He doesn't know how long they've been in the shower, but the water is starting to run cold, which is a feat within itself. Steve swallows around him, and Tony's coming down his throat with a shout. Steve moans around him, not letting up on him for a second until Tony has to physically push him away. He's never come so hard in his life and never within such a short period of time in between. 

The muscles in Tony's stomach jump, still reeling from the aftershocks of his orgasm as Steve rises to his feet. Later on, Tony couldn't tell anyone why he did it, but he pulls Steve into a fierce kiss and licks the taste of himself from Steve's mouth. Steve kisses him back just as hard until the water is like a thousand icy pinpricks, and their skin begins to prune up. Tony returns the favor and gets Steve off one more time, stroking him off with his hands. 

JARVIS breaks the little spell that has washed over them and reminds them that they need to eat at _some_ point. 

"And you've already skipped breakfast, sir," JARVIS says. "It is recommended that humans eat at least three meals a day." 

Tony sighs, but the gurgle of his stomach does make a good point. 

Steve laughs. "I guess we did get a bit carried away."

" _You_ got carried away. I got swept up in it."

"Oh, really?" Steve asks, bracing his arms on either side of Tony's head. "We're gonna pretend you weren't begging for it, huh?"

Tony can't help himself as his eyes flit down to Steve's lips. "You begged too, Rogers."

"And what of it?" Steve says like he's challenging him.

What of it, indeed. Tony doesn't know what they're doing or what this thing between them even _is_. The way Steve's looking at him like he wants to eat him whole makes him pause. If he's not careful, they'll spend another hour getting lost in each other, he's sure of it. 

"Whatever we want it to be. No labels, just us being us." 

A muscle in Steve's jaw works. It's not the answer the other man wanted, but it's the only answer Tony's going to give him. He can take it or leave it.

"You were on HYDRA's list," Steve says. The abrupt change in subject leaves him reeling, but he'll hear Steve out. "Project Insight," Steve clarifies. 

Tony can't say that he's surprised. He knows he's a threat, even without his suit, _especially_ without his suit. 

"Is that why you pounced on me?" Tony says, raising his brows. "You were worried about me, Rogers?" 

"Yeah," Steve says. "I was. I...thought about you. I fought for you." 

His heart speeds up, and he's not sure if it's from adrenaline or if he's still recovering from that mindblowing orgasm or something _else—_ something he doesn't want to confront just yet.

"I'd do it again," Steve says firmly. "I know we didn't speak for those two years, but I needed to talk to you. In person." Steve's arms fall at his sides, and Tony wraps his arms around Steve's neck. He knows he's giving Steve all kinds of mixed signals. Pressing up against him one moment and pushing him away the next, but Tony would have to be a heartless bastard to push him away right now. 

"We didn't get much talking done," Tony jokes.

"We're talking right now," Steve says. 

And why are they talking when there are much better things they could be doing? 

"Hmm," he says and kisses him softly this time. It's been so long since Tony's been touched with tenderness. Steve moans into his mouth, and his arms come back up, perched on Tony's waist. 

They miss out on lunch too. JARVIS is absolutely miffed. 

* * *

He's not going to try to put a word to their _thing_. First of all, it's too complex to be shoved into one category, and friends with benefits sounds juvenile. 

" _Are we even friends?_ " He thinks to himself on occasion. Rhodey and Happy and Pepper come to mind then. Tony's relationships with them are warm and familiar, rooted in years of misadventures with each other. Being with them is as comforting as sitting by a fireplace.

Being with Steve...is not like that. If the others are a fireplace, then Steve is a wildfire. Tony knows that he'll end up burned if he gets too close, but he can’t help but be drawn in by his light anyway. 

“ _It was a pleasure to burn_ ,” he thinks wryly. 

But no, Steve...Steve wasn’t his friend. 

Friends didn’t palm each other under the dinner table. 

Tony never thought Captain America would be so handsy, but he was quickly learning that Steve Rogers and Captain America were two different people. 

Steve Rogers was a mouthy, stubborn little punk from Brooklyn who went after what he wanted with a single-minded focus. 

And right now, that focus was determined to make Tony come in his pants like a teenager. 

Perhaps he should have seen it coming. After their little...tryst in the shower, Steve had asked him about his kinks.

Tony recalls Steve nibbling at his throat while Tony admitted that he had always wanted to try a little exhibitionism. 

_"Nothing, ah, nothing too out there," Tony said, tilting his head to allow Steve better access. They were curled up on his sofa, one of Tony's throws strewn over them to somewhat preserve their modesty if any of the other Avengers happened across them. Steve had taken no time at all to pull Tony into his arms like he knew he was going to run off any minute._

_"Why not?" Steve had asked, looking genuinely curious. He had made no nasty comments about Tony's "playboy" past, thankfully. Most of his lovers had assumed that he would be down for anything, which wasn't the case, especially after Afghanistan._

_"I may not be CEO anymore, but I'm still the face of Stark Industries. There are some things the public wouldn't forgive. Ugh, especially Fox News."_

_Steve hummed, kissing him on his shoulder, and it was the little things like that that made Tony's stomach flip._

_"It'd be fun to try," Steve admitted._

_"Well, when we're both not internationally known superheroes, let's give it a shot, yeah?"_

_Steve had simply raised his eyebrows and pinned Tony's arms above his head. "Getting smart with me, genius?"_

_"And if I am?" Tony said because he lived to stir the pot._

_Steve bit at his lips, and they didn't get much talking done after that_.

One moment, Tony had been indulging in quiet conversation with Bruce about his travels. His fellow scientist had decided to treat them all to a wonderful samosa recipe he had picked up in India. It was a breakthrough for Bruce, sharing a part of himself with the other Avengers without fear. 

Tony had said as much to the man when he felt it, something gliding up his leg. Tony chokes on his words, and much to his chagrin, five pairs of eyes zone in on him. 

"Something wrong, Tony?" Steve asks, looking all too innocent as he takes a sip of his soda. 

That. Fucking. Bastard. 

Steve had started team dinners because they needed to “get along” and “work on their social skills.” Tony was starting to think Steve just started them because he was a shameless exhibitionist. 

"Just fine," he says, smiling in a way that surely made him seem manic. "Just swallowed the wrong way is all." He was going to _murder_ Steve, Fury's blustering be damned. 

" _He's the only living survivor to receive the super-soldier serum_!" Imaginary Fury shouted at him.

" _He's about to get my foot up his ass_!" Tony shouted internally.

The others just shrugged and let it go, but Tony could feel Clint's eyes, oddly enough, along with Steve's, watching him. Steve, he figured that the asshole just wanted a front-row seat to Tony's torment, but Clint was a surprise. A nasty surprise. With a codename like Hawkeye, there's not much someone like that would miss...

More pressure on his thigh now. Tony was prepared this time, resuming his conversation with Bruce. He took a sip of his water to hide his smirk as he caught Steve's furrowed brow out the corner of his eye. 

" _I can do this all day, Cap_." 

The pressure leaves his thigh, and Tony deflates a bit in disappointment. Well...Tony had always believed in giving as good as he got. Making up his mind, Tony toes off his shoes and waits until Steve raises his soda can to his lips once more to run his toes up the other man's calf. 

The bug-eyed look on Steve's face as he hurriedly tries not to spit his drink all over the dinner table is satisfying, to say the least. 

"Everything okay, Steve?" Tony says, giving him his most blinding smile. 

Steve takes a moment to dab at his face with a napkin before he speaks. "My soda was a little strong. Caught me by surprise." 

Tony hums and spends the rest of the dinner teasing Steve like his life depends on it. Although Natasha and Clint stare pointedly at each other from time to time, the others don't say anything. Tony wouldn't be surprised if those two had a telepathic connection with each other. 

Steve, unsurprisingly, volunteers to stay behind and clean up while everybody else leaves, and Tony follows his lead. 

"You too, Stark?" Natasha says, arching a brow. "Since when do you clean?"

"Since now," he says. "I can't do my part, Romanov?"

"No, no, I'm not saying that." Her eyes flit back and forth between him and Steve. Clint's waiting by the elevators with his arms crossed over his chest. "Just don't make a mess."

He can't help but feel like there's a hidden meaning to her words, and knowing her, there is. She leaves before Tony can get the last word, her hair swaying with every step. 

The elevator doors have barely closed on them before Steve's boxed him into a corner, his arms braced on either side of Tony. "That wasn't nice," he says. There's a tilt to his lips, so Tony knows he's not actually mad. 

" _Y_ _ou_ weren't nice," Tony counters. Steve rests his hands on Tony's hips, a stance of theirs that's quickly becoming one of Tony's favorites. He'd die before he'd admit it out loud, but he likes the size difference between him and Steve. Especially when the other man is leaning down to kiss him. 

"How could I make it up to you?" Steve says, his eyes not so subtly shifting down to look at Tony's lips. 

It's hard to say no to Steve when he's looking at him like that with those ridiculous eyes of his. 

And well, if they end up making out against Tony's marble countertops, that's _their_ business.

* * *

It's easy being with Steve. Too easy. He keeps on waiting for the other foot to drop, for Steve to realize that there's better things he could be doing than fucking around with Tony. He's quickly learning that Steve isn't the type to be needlessly cruel. Steve volunteers with the cleanup crews that come in and take care of their messes after each mission. He stops to take pictures and sign autographs when he runs into fans on the street, and he's quick to call someone out on their bullshit, and Tony...admires him for it. Steve Rogers is a good man, a seemingly perfect man. It was inevitable for the other man to grow on him. 

Everything changes one night after a night terror hits Tony particularly hard. He's no stranger to nightmares. Waking up with his heart trying to escape his chest, his hands clawing at the edges of his arc reactor scars was pretty par for the course. Didn't make it easier, though. 

Tony stumbles out of bed and sinks to his knees. His bedroom is spinning, or maybe _he's_ the one going in circles. He's not really sure. 

His knees. He needs to tuck his head between his knees. Tony does just that, breathing in deeply through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. 

The dreams took turns, it seemed. One night Tony is floating aimlessly in the cold vacuum of space. Another night, Obie yanks the arc reactor from his chest. 

Tonight had been an arc reactor night, but instead of Obie betraying him...it was Steve. 

Tony inhaled again, trying to shove the nightmare down to the deepest wells of his mind despite his therapist's advice. 

" _Let the thought come and go, like a car passing you by on the street_." Tony was much more a fan of beating his intrusive thoughts back with a stick. 

He's not the type to place too much stock in dreams. He works better with numbers and facts, always has, and the facts tell him that Steve Rogers is a good man. 

" _Too good_ ," his brain supplies unhelpfully. His clothes are sticking to him with sweat, but the thought of taking a shower is just a little too much to bear. He has wipes in his workshop for when he's too in the zone to put aside his work and hop in the shower. And for his bad days. 

He hates his bad days, how too touch and go they are. How some days, he'll be fine, almost _normal_ , and another, crossing his arms over his chest, still trying to protect his long gone arc reactor. As he gets to his feet and slowly, almost mechanically starts to gather clean clothes to change into, a part of him recoils at having to clean himself with wipes like he's a child. 

" _Recovery isn't a ladder_ ," his therapist was fond of reminding him. " _Some days are going to be harder than others_. _"_

He knows enough about trauma and its effects on brain processes to know that, but it still doesn't make it any easier to accept. He wants to be better, and he wants to be better _now_ , but life doesn't work out that way, does it?

He makes it to his workshop uninterrupted and strips, uncaring of who might see him. His workshop is _his_ space, and despite living with them for months on end now, Tony still needs his space. Even Steve never tried to enter the sanctity of his workshop. Steve. 

Tony's dream comes to him unbidden. Everything plays out the way it had in real life; the sonic device _he_ created used to paralyze him, the smug, sneering monologue. The only difference is that it's Steve's sky blue eyes full of hate that Tony's staring into as he rips out the one thing keeping him alive. 

Tony wipes himself down and gets dressed in record time. He's not going back to sleep anytime soon, and he's caught up on all of his projects for SI and the Avengers themselves. If he's being honest with himself, which happens once in a blue moon, he needs some comfort. When he leaves his workshop, in a strange sense of deja vu, he finds Steve waiting for him, almost like he was summoned by Tony. Steve's hair is mussed; he looks like he woke up in the middle of the night too. He's leaning against the wall, looking cool and mysterious...that is if it weren't for the fuzzy bunny slippers currently dominating his feet. 

Tony waits for his brain to start sending him signals of " _Run!_ " or " _Danger!_ " but nothing ever comes. It's hard to be afraid of a man in bunny slippers and who's currently turning so red he could resemble a strawberry. 

"Natasha thinks she's funny," Steve says. His voice is deep and burly, still syrupy thick with sleep. 

"Natasha is hilarious," Tony admits. He never thought that a ruthless assassin would also be a relentless prankster, but it explained why she got on so well with Clint. She didn't curb the archer's mischievous streak. She _encouraged_ it. "Don't tell her I said that." 

Steve chuckled, ducking his head. "Duly noted. She'd never let you live it down." 

Tony walks past Steve into his kitchenette and pulls out two mugs, a saucepan, and a whisk. If he's staying up tonight, at least he has good company. The least they could have are some good drinks to accompany them. 

"Why do you wear them?" He asks, grabbing a carton of milk from the fridge and giving it a hesitant sniff. Tony's not the greatest cook, but he'll be damned if he didn't make the best hot chocolate in all of New York. Passed on from Maria Stark herself, he never used the instant powdered mixes that were so commonplace. After returning home from long days being a glamorous socialite or a generous charity organizer or simply being Howard Stark's wife, his mother would end the night with a hot chocolate in one hand, and Tony curled into her side. 

"They're cozy," Steve says, taking a seat at the island that divides the rest of Tony's private floor from his kitchen. "They're free, and bunnies are cute. What's not to like?"

"You've got me there," Tony says, going through the motions of measuring out cocoa powder, sugar, and vanilla. He can feel Steve's eyes on him, drinking in his every movement. Not in a hungry way for once, but almost like he's curious. In casual awe of Tony in a kitchen. 

Tony wants to bring up his dream, he wants Steve to reassure him that he'd never hurt him that they're friends and teammates, and they—

"Do you want to look at fan art?" he says instead, decidedly _not_ thinking about the status of their relationship. 

Steve blinks at the abrupt change in their conversation, but he rolls with it, bless him. "Of what?"

"Of us," Tony says, whisking all the ingredients together, so it doesn't burn. If he's also avoiding Steve's gaze, well, it's just a coincidence. Milk burns with a quickness when you're heating it on the stove, after all. "Sometimes when I'm bored or need a pick me up, I...look at the fanart kids send in." 

He doesn't know why he's telling Steve this. It's not a case of Tony being self-centered, looking at fan art of himself (and the other Avengers). It's just...kids are so pure and _good_. They're blank slates before society, or their parents or both screw them over, and looking at their fanart makes Tony dislike most humans a little less. It reminds him of why he fights. At the end of the day, putting on the suit isn't about saving his own life, or the glory of it all, or even atoning for his past mistakes. It's about making sure that those kids who had enough kindness in their heart to spare a kind word and some art to a virtual stranger still have a world to live in the next day. Not that anybody would believe Tony. 

And then he remembers, " _Quit pretending to be a hero_." 

Maybe Steve won't believe him either. 

"Okay," Steve says. 

Tony keeps his eyes on the saucepan, and if Steve sees his lips quirk up, he keeps it to himself. 

Steve has his phone on him, and Tony gets him to download Instagram easy enough. In two years, Steve's caught on quickly to 21st-century technology. Giving him a StarkPhone had gone surprisingly well, with the other man taking it from Tony with a gracious smile that had Tony averting his eyes. 

Tony finishes up the hot chocolate with a flourish of whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon, walking around the island and pressing one of the cups into Steve's hand. Steve's fingers graze his own, sending delightful sparks running through him. Tony tries not to dwell on it. 

He sits next to Steve and directs him to the search bar on the app. Their heads are bent close together, and this close, Tony can smell the remnants of his cologne—lemon and pepper and sycamore—until he's dizzy with it. 

"What's next?" Steve says, breaking Tony out of his daze. 

Tony flushes and takes a sip from his hot chocolate to cover himself—and buy himself time. The chocolate soothes his nerves a bit, and Tony tells him what to type in. Steve's eyes light up at the results, nearly thousands of posts, thousands of works of art that people, young and old alike, poured their hearts into, and Tony wishes he had his phone on him if only to take a picture for himself. 

Steve clicks on a post, and his eyes soften. It's of them. Steve is in that awful suit SHIELD had stuck him in that made his head look like an egg, and to be honest, did nothing for his ass. Tony can clearly recognize the Mark VII armor and—they're holding hands. Of all things, they're holding hands. He doesn't know why his cheeks flame up or why he gets the sudden urge to bury his face in his hands. The drawing was done painstakingly in colored pencil, obviously drawn by an older kid, but still good. 

"Look at their shading," Steve says, thankfully not addressing the elephant in the room. "Wish I had drawn like that at their age." 

"I've seen your work," Tony says, latching onto the topic for what it was—a way out. "You were good." 

Steve smiles slightly. Something in his eyes looks wistful. "Thank you," he says. 

Tony had always been curious, and Steve being an artist had always fascinated him. How could a man, seemingly destined for combat, have the passionate, creative soul of an artist? "Do you...do you miss it?" He asks. 

Steve double taps the photo, giving it a like before he set his phone down. "I do. I sketch here and there when the inspiration strikes, but I haven't had the time to sit down and really pour myself into it like I used to."

"Pour yourself into it?"

"Give it my all," Steve clarifies. "I could devote an entire day to working on a project. Just me, some charcoal, and my canvas."

Tony could understand him. The same way Steve could apparently spend days working on an art piece, Tony would spend the same amount of time in his workshop, bringing an idea to life. 

"Every painting, every sculpture, every drawing, is an artist baring their soul for the world to judge for generations to come," Steve says. "And isn't that just the scariest thing you've heard?" 

Tony thought of his own inventions. Missiles and guns and bombs. But he also made intellicrops to feed the hungry. The arc reactor sparked a revolution in clean energy technology. JARVIS, the closest Tony would ever come to bringing another life into this world, growing and developing with every day. How would history judge _his_ soul? 

"It is scary," Tony admits. "It takes immense bravery, too, which you have in spades." 

Steve looks down at his hot chocolate, trying and failing to hide a smile. He takes a sip, humming in approval at the first taste. "Thank you," he says, then chuckles. "You want to know who my biggest fan was?"

"Who?" Tony asks, indulging him. 

"My mom. When I was a kid...she'd draw whatever I asked her to and would let me color it in however I wanted, even if it was ridiculous. Took me to art museums when we had the money." 

Tony never thought a smile could be sad, but that's the only way to describe the look on Steve's face; a mixture of anguish and fondness and love, so much love he has to look away. He didn't mean to make Steve upset, but it's too late now. He's already opened the floodgates. 

"Before she passed, she encouraged me to go to art school," he says. "Guess she hoped that it would keep me out of trouble." 

Tony leans into his side. Steve stiffens, and for a moment, Tony thinks he made the wrong move, but then Steve slowly, almost like Tony's going to scamper off, wraps his arm around Tony's waist. His palm is hot against his side. The warmth seeps into his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.

"I can't picture you as a little troublemaker," Tony says softly. 

"Trouble found me," Steve says. 

"And you couldn't ignore it." 

It wasn't a question, but Steve answers anyway. "No. I couldn't." 

It explained a lot about him. Hell, it was one of the things about Steve that made Tony lose his mind and want to kiss him senseless in the same breath. 

"She said I was like my father, like that," Steve says. "Always up for a fight."

Tony didn't like the dark tone Steve's voice had taken on. He doesn't know much about Joseph Rogers, but obviously, it wasn't pretty. And given Steve's pre-serum height and the slew of health issues, Tony could put two and two together. 

"The sins of the father shouldn't fall upon the son," he says. "Howard wasn't daddy dearest, either." 

"You're not him," Steve says immediately. Tony knows it's not an insult.

"And you're not him," Tony replies. He leans his head against Steve's shoulder, sighing when he feels Steve press a kiss to the crown of his head. 

Tony picks up Steve's phone. He doesn't ask why Steve was waiting for him, and Steve doesn't ask why he was in his workshop at two in the morning. 

They move from the island to Tony's couch, Tony curled into Steve's side, Steve's arm slung around his shoulder. They polish off the rest of their hot chocolate and scroll through the pages of fanart, getting lost in each other's touch and presence. There's something warm and golden in Tony's chest, slowly expanding, and he knows one day it's going to fill him up from head to toe. 

Somewhere, where ever they are, Sarah Rogers and Maria Stark are smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I have no idea where plot came from but she's here to stay now. Don't be afraid to tell me what you think even if it's just a string of emojis. 
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks aren't necessary but they're much appreciated! When you guys give me feedback, I know what I'm doing right, what I'm doing wrong, and what you guys want to see more of. 
> 
> Follow my main [tumblr](https://imperialstark.tumblr.com) for more stony/marvel content and my [sideblog](https://starrytony.tumblr.com) for more nsfk/nsfw stony content 👀. No minors allowed on the sideblog, though! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony catches up with Pepper and an old friend needs his help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's like three weeks late but Happy New Year! I know it's been a *cough* few months *cough* but I'm not dead! 2020 did not kill me and I am still working on this fic! I work retail and now that Christmas is over, I should have more time to focus on my writing, which is the reason why I'm updating today. 
> 
> You may have noticed that the chapter count increased _again_ and that's because I have a complete lack of self-control! 🎉 I'm not even going to try and guess what the final chapter count is going to be but I'll try not to go over 10. 
> 
> This chapter is a bit of a filler but chapter four is done and I'll definitely have that up before the month is over. If I don't feel free to yell at me, I won't mind. I also accidentally ended up creating an OC for this story 🤷 I hope you guys like her because she's going to show up in a few more chapters. 
> 
> Okay enough about me, enough about life, on with the story! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Marvel or the MCU, this is all just for funsies ✌

Despite being on opposite sides of the country, Tony and Pepper talk more often than people think. Pep’s an early riser, and Tony hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since he was born, so it balances out. 

“I should tell you to go to sleep,” Pepper says, sighing. “But I miss the sound of your voice too much.” She’s sitting at the island, a cup of coffee in hand. She had pulled her hair into a bun and still has her reading glasses on, the red ones that she hates because she thinks she looks like someone's grandmother.

Tony loves seeing her like this. Loose and comfortable with him. After they broke up, a part of him worried that things would be strained between them. He should have known that was impossible.

“I don’t know whether to be happy or insulted,” Tony says. 

“Both,” Pepper says. “Your sleeping habits are abysmal.” 

Tony shrugs and takes a sip of his own coffee. He had always had issues with sleep. He woke up frequently throughout the night and would only start feeling sleepy around two in the morning to the point where attempting to sleep at all felt like a waste of time. Give him a cup of coffee with four shots of espresso, and he'd be good to go.

“You can’t deny that I’m more productive, though,” he says. 

“Okay, you _do_ work hard,” Pepper admits, pursing her lips. “But you work too hard. When’s the last time you had a day to yourself that you _didn’t_ spend in your workshop?” 

Usually, Tony's quick with a quip, but Pepper's question makes him pause. Last week, Steve asked Tony if he wanted to join him on his run around Bryant Park, and what had Tony said?  
"No." Like an idiot. It's not that he hadn't wanted to go; it was just that between SI and Avengers business and—

Tony was making excuses. Even he could see that. Hook-ups? Hook-ups Tony could do, specialized in, even, but Steve's question had ventured dangerously into "date" territory. The last time Tony had tried to seriously date was when he was with Pepper, and that had been a piping hot mess in the end.

"Tony? Hello? I swear to God if you've just been using your life model decoy on me, I'm going to fly directly to Manhattan just to—"

"What? No!" He says, raising his hands. Hell hath no fury like a Pepper scorned. "I'm here, in the flesh. I just got...distracted. I guess I haven't really taken a day for myself."

Pepper sets her mug down and levels him with a stern look that puts him in the mind of a school principal.

"Tony," she says in that way of hers that usually means she's worried about him, and Tony's heart twists. "Is everything okay?"

Tony's not a liar, but he _does_ believe in omitting information. 

"Everything's as good as I can hope for, Pep. I'm going to therapy, and I'm still taking my meds. You know how it is," he says, shrugging. "Some days are better than others." 

Pepper nods, looking a little less concerned, which is all Tony can ask for. "And the others? They're not bothering you?" 

It takes him a second, but Tony realizes that she's talking about the Avengers. He shakes his head. "They're fine. It's...weird living with so many people," he says. Tony had lived alone for half of his life now, aside from that brief stint in Malibu with Pepper. "They leave coffee grounds in the sink, and last week, Romanov and Barton convinced JARVIS to play Iron Man every time I went into my workshop and—" 

"You like them, don't you?" Pepper says. It's not a question. 

He does like them. The entire time he had been complaining about them, he knew his face had been stretched into a grin. 

"Maybe so. It's refreshing having another scientist to go mad with," he says, smiling devilishly when Pepper pales. 

"Oh, God, you've corrupted Bruce. There's _two_ of you now."

"Okay, I take offense to that," he interjects. "Bruce keeps me in line, promise.” 

“Give him my thanks,” Pepper says. "Is it just Bruce? What about the others? How do you feel about them?"

He speaks without thinking, something you'd think wouldn't happen so often to a literal genius. "Steve's been...Steve's been good." 

Pepper raises a brow. "It's _Steve_ now? What happened to Rogers? Capsicle? Any other one of your incessant nicknames?" 

He's been caught. Lying isn't even an option; Pepper would sniff out the truth like a bloodhound. She was like Natasha in that way. If those two ever team up again, Tony feels sorry for whichever poor soul they set their sight on. 

His only choice is to play it cool. "First off, you know you love my nicknames, case in point, _Pepper_ ," he says, knowing damn well she hadn't gone by Virginia since she started working for him. "And…it's Steve now. He's not so bad when you get to know him."

Pepper looks unconvinced, but mercifully, she lets it go. "Hmm. You guys are friends now?"

_No. Never. Not even close_.

"What can I say?" Tony gives her his cheesiest grin. "I wore him down." 

She rolls her eyes, but it's all in good fun. "Well, then, I'm happy for you. You deserve all the love that comes your way." 

"Ugh, don't get all sappy on me," he jokes, even though his heart spasms in his chest. He doesn't _love_ the Avengers, and he doesn't—

He doesn't _love_ Steve either. 

And they don't _love_ him back.

Pepper's eyes soften. "Tell you what," she begins, "since you're so adamant on working too hard to have some fun, how about I do it for you?" 

Tony latches onto the change of subject like the lifeline it is. "What do you have in mind?" 

"Carmen Solomita is doing a fundraiser event for A Helping Hand. Does that sound up your alley?"

Carmen Solomita was an old friend from his prep school years. A fellow gifted kid, and the daughter of the iconic Italian husband-wife fashion designer duo, Isabela and Marcello Solomita, it was a no brainer that Tony and Carmen would become friends. 

She had followed in her parents' footsteps, designing luxury clothes and even starting her own separate fashion house right here in Manhattan. 

“What’s she doing this year?” he asks. 

“She’s organizing a week-long carnival in upstate New York for local orphanages. Think you or any of the others would be interested in working a booth?” Pepper says. “Having all of the Avengers show up would drum up a lot of publicity.” 

Tony furrows his brows. A carnival does sound fun, and he has no problems with running a booth. It’s the others that are a problem. 

“Don’t you think six, let alone one Avenger, would take away from the cause? And that’s if they even agree to it.” 

Pepper raises her hands. “Just throwing it out there. Again, you need a break. And think of the kids when they see your faces.” 

Tony’s face wrinkles. So, _maybe_ , he has a soft spot for orphans. He still can’t help but feel like Pepper has some ulterior motive. 

“I’ll ask,” Tony says, caving. “And if they say no, I’m not forcing them to go. Tell Carmen she’s getting one Avenger, at the least.” 

“Yes! I knew you’d come around.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Love you too, Tony.”

* * *

Tony broaches the topic of Carmen’s carnival at dinner and immediately braces himself for the worst. He’s not a pessimist by any means, but he sure as hell doesn’t expect the best from people whenever he asks them for a favor. 

There’s a pause as they take the time to ponder over what he said, long enough to make Tony squirm. 

God, why did he even ask? He should have just told Pepper that the others were all unavailable or—

“What kind of carnival?” Clint asks, breaking Tony out of his reverie. 

"I'm sorry," Tony blinks. "Are you actually considering this?" 

Clint shrugs. "What's not to like? Just want to know what we'd be doing." 

"Um, okay," Tony says. He's never, never been at a loss for words in his life, and yet...

"We'd just be running booths, meet and greets, that sort of stuff. Nothing too crazy," Tony says. Pretty run of the mill stuff for a fundraising event. 

"And the charity, A Helping Hand, was it?" Natasha says. "One of yours?"

"No," he replies. "Carmen Solomita's. She's big on philanthropy, always trying to help out in some way or another. She's always been like that."

"Solomita?" Natasha asks. "Fashion designer Carmen Solomita?" 

"That's the one," he says, some of his initial anxiety ebbing away. They weren't saying no. Not yet. Or maybe they were just trying to let him down gently. 

"She an old flame of yours?" Clint says, and Tony tries to ignore how quickly Steve's head turns to look at him. 

"No," Tony says immediately, putting an end to any questions before they can begin. "We've been friends since high school. It'd be like dating my sister." Not to mention Carmen had known him when he had still been under five feet and had a mouth full of metal. Any attraction on her part had either never existed or died as soon as Tony had opened his mouth.

"Hm," Natasha says. Tony's still learning how to speak Natasha fluently, but it's apparently enough for Clint. 

"Alright, I'm in," he says. "Dibs on the sharpshooting booth."

"You can't call dibs on a booth," Natasha says, rolling her eyes. "And it's mine." 

"I'll arm wrestle you for it."

"No," Tony says, pointing a finger at them. "The last time you two arm-wrestled at this table, you split it in half. You'll be assigned whatever booth is available."

Clint grumbles something under his breath, and Tony closes his eyes. 

"I think you annoyed Mom," Natasha whispers, and really, for a spy, she sucks at being quiet. 

But if he was mom, who was dad?

"Enough, you guys," Steve says, backing him up. "Stop messing around." 

"Thank you," Tony says, massaging his temple, trying to stop his stress headache before it begins."It's like having children." 

"Am I your favorite?" Clint asks with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

"No, it's Bruce," he answers immediately, his voice deadpan. 

"...You answered that insultingly fast." 

"You asked," Tony says. "Speaking of Bruce, Brucie, you've been quieter than normal. What's going on in that brilliant head of yours?"

Tony doesn't want to put him on the spot, but he knows Bruce will just try his best to brush his problems under the rug. 

Bruce is staring down at his plate, poking absentmindedly at his pasta with his fork. "I don't think I should go," he says. 

"And why not?" Thor, of all people, asks. The god levels Bruce with a heavy stare. "You deserve to amuse yourself like the rest of us."

"Is that a joke?" Bruce says, throwing his fork down, sending it clattering against his plate. "Do you really think unleashing a big green rage monster at a carnival with children present is a bright idea?" 

"Where's this monster you speak of?" Thor says. "I don't see one."

"Come on," Bruce mutters. 

"I don't see one, either," Tony says. "I see a genius nuclear physicist who moonlights as an equally amazing superhero." 

"And I see a kind, honest man who would never harm anyone intentionally," Steve says, jumping in. 

Bruce purses his lips but based on the flush spreading across his face, Tony can tell they're wearing him down. 

Oddly enough, it's Natasha who reels him in. "I've seen a lot of monsters in my life, Banner. You're not one of them." 

Bruce chuckles, but it's not a happy sound. Tony's familiar with it enough to know that it's chock full of bitterness. 

"I'll be there with you," Thor says, his voice a soft timber. "I won't let anything happen to you. None of us will."

"...It's not me you should be worrying about," Bruce says. "But...if you're going...I guess it'll be fine." 

Thor smiles, looking every inch the god he is. "We'll have a grand time, Doctor Banner."

Dinner ends quickly after that, the others petering off until it's just Steve and Tony left sitting at the table. 

Tony's glad the Avengers are helping him out, honestly. It's just...the thought of six Avengers...around young, impressionable children…

"Oh, _God_ ," he says aloud, burying his face into his hands. 

He can hear Steve stand up, rounding up the dishes left behind. "It's not going to be that bad," he says. 

"We don't know that," Tony says, his voice muffled. He looks up to see Steve raising a judgemental brow at him. "I'm letting not one, but two master assassins, the Hulk, and a fucking _god,_ interact with children." 

"They'll be on their best behavior," Steve says. "Thor said he'll keep an eye on Bruce, and I know for a fact that wherever Clint goes, Natasha's gonna follow and vice versa." 

"And that doesn't worry you?"

"No, because I actually have faith in our teammates. Clint's not gonna peg a kid with an arrow just because he feels like it. He's not the type."

Tony sighs but damn it, Steve's right. He's always right. Tony doesn't know much about Clint's life before SHIELD and the Avengers, but he knows it wasn't pretty. Seemed to be a common theme amongst their little team. 

" _Must have a shitty parental figure in order to be a superhero_ ," he thinks to himself. 

He rises out of his seat and grabs the few dishes that remain. Tony helps Steve load up the dishwasher. He tries not to think about how domestic it all feels, how it's practically become routine for Tony and Steve to look after the others and put away their dishes. He doesn't know what it means, but he has the strangest feeling that Pepper is smiling to herself halfway across the country.

* * *

Carmen's beyond delighted when Tony gives her the good news over the phone the next day. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Her voice still does that weird squeaky thing when she gets really excited. 

"One more thank you, and you're going to rupture my eardrum," he says, holding his phone to his ear. He's making breakfast, which for him consists of swiping a yogurt cup and spoon from the kitchen. 

"I'll stop shouting," she says, which is a complete lie. "I just can't believe the Avengers are going to be at my fundraiser!" Case in point. 

There's still that gnawing pit in his stomach at the thought of the Avengers running rampant around a carnival, but they could use the publicity. Maybe it'd calm down some of those Daily Bugle conspiracy theorists who thought that the Avengers were Chitauri shapeshifters who actually started the invasion. Tony has a video of J. Jonah Jameson screaming about it saved to his phone whenever he needs a good laugh. 

"I know, I'm amazing," Tony says around a mouthful of yogurt. 

"You are, and I will literally owe you for the rest of my life," she replies. 

"I want your firstborn child," Tony says.

"Done," Carmen says without missing a beat. "That's how serious I am." 

He can't help but chuckle to himself. Talking to Carmen was always so fun. She had the same (admittedly dorky) sense of humor as him. He remembered the days when they sit in the back of their homeroom, laughing at each other's stupid jokes over the morning announcements while their teacher gave them death glares. They kept in touch after graduation but not enough for Tony's tastes. 

"But seriously, how does it feel to be a superhero? You guys all live together, don't you? Oh my God, you're just like firefighters. Do you have a little pole you slide down when there's an emergency? Ooh, is there an _alarm—_ "

"Carmen, cool it before you pop a blood vessel," he says, mentally filing away the idea to add a pole leading directly to the tower's hangar. "And I promise you can grill them when you see them at the carnival." 

"I'm holding you to that, Stark."

"Figured you would." 

"Smart boy," Carmen says. "Any questions, comments, or concerns you want to pass along?"

"Actually," Tony begins, his brain chugging along at its usual speed of light. "I have some requests…"

Two weeks later, the look on everyone else's face when Tony presents them with the matching t-shirts he designed is more than worth the hour of alone time he promised her with Natasha. 

“She’s so mysterious,” Carmen had said over the phone. “Tony, I _need_ to see if she’s as calculating as she comes off.” 

“Why,” he had said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why would you do that?” 

“Because I’m bisexual and have no sense of self-preservation. It’s why we’re friends,” she had chirped. 

He didn't blame her, though. Had he not jumped at every chance to hook up with Steve like his teenage self would have wanted? 

"Is this another one of your strange Midgardian customs?" Thor says, holding the t-shirt out in front of him. They're done up in his signature hotshot red, of course with Carmen's charity, _A Helping Hand_ on the front, but the back is the real masterpiece. Under the words, _Super Helper_ was a personalized emblem meant to represent each one of the Avengers. Mjolnir for Thor, Cap's Shield for Steve, a bow and arrow for Clint, and so on so forth. 

"...Is it weird that I kind of actually like these?" Clint whispers to Natasha, who's tracing the lines of her hourglass on her shirt. 

"You _would_ like them," she says. 

Tony blinks. "I can...get us normal shirts?" 

"Nope, too late," Clint says, shrugging his shirt on over the long sleeve he had been wearing. "I've already grown attached.” 

Tony looks at each of them head-on, noting the way Natasha’s slender fingers dance over the cotton and Thor’s curious gaze as he inspects the true to life runes Tony had painstakingly copied from the real-life Mjolnir. Bruce looks at the fist clutching the beaker on his shirt like it holds all the secrets to the universe, and Steve—Steve’s not looking at the shirt at all. He’s looking at Tony. Of course, he is. 

Tony's always liked puzzles, and right now, the biggest puzzle of them all is what exactly made Steve's face go slack, his eyes all clear and soft and staring directly at him. 

Tony shakes his head, clearing his head of puzzles and Steve and piercing stares. 

"So," Tony says, "we're good to go?" 

Later on, when they're all piled into Tony's limo like they're going on a field trip, Steve texts him even though they're sitting right next to each other. 

It's just four words, but it's enough to make Tony blush. He facepalms, under the pretense of annoyance at something one of the others had said. 

" _I'm proud of you_ ," follows him all the way to upstate New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's stuck with this fic even though it's been a hot second since I've updated. You mean the world to me 💖. Again, chapter four should be up before the month is over. Chapter five needs a little bit of tweaking but it'll probably be up in early February. 
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are much appreciated. I always love seeing your guys' reactions even if it's just a string of emojis. Truly, they make my day. 
> 
> Yell at me on [tumblr](https://imperialstark.tumblr.com)
> 
> Lurk on my [nsfw tumblr](https://starrytony.tumblr.com)
> 
> See you guys soon!


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers get a day off and surprisingly nobody gets hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all. This chapter felt like the mental equivalent of me beating my head against the wall. For the life of me, my brain could not write this chapter in a reasonable amount of time. But it's finally done, it's here, and it can stop being a pain in my ass. This one is a bit of a sweeter chapter but don't worry if you're a fan of angstier or smuttier chapters. Chapter 5 is going to have plenty of both 😉 
> 
> I'm actually really hyped for Chapter 5 but I won't spoil anything. I've tentatively set a goal for Chapter 5 to be up by February 7 at the latest. 
> 
> Also for my bilingual readers, if I have any, please excuse my shitty Italian in this chapter, I'm literally just working off of Google Translate
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Marvel or the MCU, this is all just for funsies ✌

Carmen couldn't have picked a better day for a carnival; It's not too hot out for it to be August nonetheless. A slight breeze ruffles Tony's ungelled hair, sending his bangs into his eyes. He smooths the hair back with a huff. So much for keeping it casual today. His brief irritation dissipates when he looks, truly looks, at his surroundings. 

The scent of cotton candy and funnel cake and something smoky, no doubt barbecue, carries on the wind. There are two long lines of booths, rides, and rest places alike stretching for a good yard. The other volunteers are zooming about, dressed in bright red tees like the Avengers, finishing up last-minute preparations. 

"She doesn't half-ass anything, huh?" Clint says. He sounds impressed and…a little excited. Tony can't lie...he's excited too.

"I'll say," Steve says, and there's no hiding the awe in his voice. "I can't believe some of these rides even exist." 

Out the corner of his eye, Tony sees Thor lean down to whisper something in Bruce's ear, blue eyes dancing. Whatever he said makes Bruce laugh, a real one, not the sharp little chuckle that's usually full of self-loathing or sarcasm or both. 

They're off to a good start. Even Natasha looks pleased, or as pleased as she can be, with her arms crossed in front of her. She's taking in their surroundings too, but Tony knows that a part of her isn't doing it for fun. She's looking for enemies, escape routes, any possible threats to her and the others. 

" _You can take an agent out of the field_ ," he thinks. He hopes that maybe she'll loosen up by the end of the day, preferably without anyone getting hurt. 

"Where's Solomita?" she asks. "I want to know what we’re doing.”

"I know where she is," Tony says and leads the way, picking out Carmen's chirpy voice, throwing out orders and praise with a _megaphone, Jesus Christ_. 

"Make sure you're at your booths in ten minutes! The kids are going to be arriving soon!" 

She's crossing things off on her clipboard when Tony and the Avengers following behind him pull up in front of her. 

She hasn't changed a bit since Tony's last seen her. She's still tan, still short, shorter than Tony. Her dark wavy hair is pulled back into what she used to call her "business braid" for when she had "shit that needs to be done." 

Tony clears his throat, and Carmen looks up, her big brown eyes going wide before a grin breaks across her face and—

Carmen pounces on him, full-on throwing her arms around Tony's neck. Tony catches her no problem and—Carmen's mood is so _infectious_ —gives her a little twirl before setting her down.

"Jesus Christ," Clint says under his breath. "She almost took him out." 

"Did not," Carmen says, and Clint has the good sense to look bashful. "This is normal for us. Especially when someone hasn't reached out in _two_. _Years_ ," she says, slapping Tony on the arm twice for emphasis. 

"Ouch," he says, rubbing his arm. "I've been busy."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Save the world a few times, and suddenly you have no time for your friends," she says, grinning, so Tony knows she's joking. She turns to the Avengers, who've all been standing there awkwardly like they're the new kids in school. 

"All jokes aside, I'm thankful for you guys, all of you," she says. "Who knows where we'd be without the Avengers." She sticks out her hand for them to shake and for a split second, nobody moves. Maybe it was the genuine gratitude in Carmen's voice, or the others were still trying to process Carmen's _everything_ , but the smile on her face starts to waver at their hesitation.

Steve is the first to act, taking Carmen's hand in his own. "Thank you, ma'am," he says. "I know I speak for everyone when I say that we're glad the team exists, and we'll help out any way we can." 

"Thank you," Tony mouths to him, and Steve gives him a slight nod, letting go of Carmen's hand.

Thor steps up next and, in true princely fashion, bows, bringing Carmen's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of her palm. "A pleasure to be here, my lady," Thor says.

Carmen's face is red when Thor straightens back up, releasing her hand. After that, it's like the others shift into gear. Clint apologizes for his comment. Bruce offers her a kind hello until it's just Natasha who steps up until she's right in front of Carmen. Even though they're the same height, Carmen stiffens up, looking at Natasha like she's about to get chastised. 

Natasha simply...sticks out her hand. "It’s nice to meet you,” she begins.

Carmen takes Natasha’s hand slowly like she’s expecting some trick. 

“I’m actually a fan,” Natasha says. “I saw your work this February while undercover. Very nice.” 

"Thank you," Carmen says. If she blushes anymore, Tony’s going to start worrying about her health. "I was actually inspired by your suit. The leather and the bodycon silhouette paired well with Fall and Winter." 

"Oh, really?" Natasha says, raising her brows. Natasha looks her up and down, and Carmen, much to her credit, holds her gaze. "I have ideas for your spring collection if you'd like to hear them." 

And just like that, the Avengers have won Carmen over forever. And Tony didn't even have to make any threats. Maybe today won't be a disaster after all.

"Yes, please," Carmen says, her voice coming out high and reedy. "I mean since you're _offering—_ " 

“Carmen,” Tony interrupts before she starts melting under the full force of Natasha’s undivided attention, “what’s the game plan for today?” 

"Game plan. Right. We're here to work." Carmen clears her throat, a flush still staining her cheeks, and flips through some of the pages on her clipboard. "Okay, Tony, you're easy. You're running the basketball booth." 

Basketball. He can do basketball. 

"Mr. Rogers," Carmen says. Natasha starts humming "Won't You Be My Neighbor" until Steve shoots her an exasperated look.

"Sorry," Natasha says, not sounding sorry at all. 

"Please, call me Steve," Steve says. "She already has that song set as my ringtone."

"Steve," Carmen says. "I know you're an artist. Think you could do caricatures slash portraits?" 

Steve nods. "Easy enough." 

The rest of the assignments go quickly. Natasha gets the sharpshooting booth, Clint's over Ring Toss, and Thor and Bruce will oversee the sack race. Now that introductions and assignments are over, there's a thrum of excitement to the air. Or anxiety. Tony's not sure yet. 

"Nervous?" Carmen says to him. She's tucked her pen behind her ear. 

"Maybe," he says. "Maybe not. It could just be indigestion."

"Gross," she laughs, wrinkling her nose. "I'm sure it'll be fine. I meant what I said, you know. I'm glad you guys showed up. You know how much _A Helping Hand_ means to me." 

Of course, he does. Carmen's like him...in more ways than one. She had been orphaned at nineteen when her parents' plane had gone down over the Atlantic. And at twenty-one, she had also found herself the sole heir to a family fortune and no family to share it with. She got the idea for _A Helping Hand_ after Tony's own parents had died.

Tony repeats what she had told him all those years ago. "Us orphans gotta stick together."

"Damn right," she says. " _Siamo famiglia_."

" _Siamo famiglia_ ," Tony echoes. 

"Congrats on your new additions, by the way," Carmen says. 

Tony's brows furrow. "What new additions?" he asks.

Carmen tilts her head at him like she used to whenever she thought he had said something stupid. "You're telling me that those five supermodels you call teammates just came here for shits and giggles?" 

"They needed a day off," Tony explains. "I offered. Nothing else to it."

"They came because _you_ asked them, dumbass. They're your _friends_." 

Tony's not going to argue with her, mostly since the others have stopped talking amongst themselves and are looking _right at them_. 

"Anyway," he says pointedly, "can you point me in the direction of my booth?"

* * *

For the next three hours, Tony shoves Carmen's words from his mind and throws himself into teaching anyone who steps up to the basketball booth about physics. It wasn't _cheating_ per se; Tony simply calculated the angle the kids would have to throw the ball along with the perfect amount of force. The looks of shock followed by unabashed glee after they made a basket more than made up for any guilt he was feeling. 

His break comes faster than he wants it to, but he has to take one eventually and decides the best way to do that is to take a walk. His fellow volunteer, a young man named Jake, says he'll be able to hold down the fort while Tony's gone. Maybe Tony will check on the others, see how they're faring. 

“ _It’s a great day to fly,_ ” he thinks. The sky is a soft pale blue that soothes his heart. Cirrus clouds, like pulled apart cotton candy, lazily make their way across the horizon. Maybe after the carnival is over, he’ll take the suit out for a ride and cruise through the skies. 

He wanders without direction, letting his feet carry him wherever they fancy. Seldom does Tony get quiet moments to himself like this. There was always a fire to put out, a project to work on, kittens to rescue from trees, that sort of thing. Not that he ever doubted her, but maybe Pepper was right. Maybe he _did_ work too hard. 

The sound of children squealing pulls him from his thoughts and brings a smile to his face. Carmen had spared no expense, not that he expected any less, as he takes in the Tilt-a-Whirl lifting its arms higher and higher. The riders throw their arms up in the air, their laughter carrying on the wind. For today, they would get to fly too. 

Tony continues on, the shouts and whoops and laughs fading into the background; he's made it to a quieter part of the carnival where they tucked off all of the arts and crafts booths. 

There's the finger painting table where plenty of toddlers and adults alike are flinging paint onto sheets of canvas. One kid rises from the face painting table with Cap's shield emblazoned upon his cheek and a booth over...there's Steve, drawing caricatures for the kids. There's a curve to his lips. Steve's biting back a smile at the little boy trying (and failing) to sit still in his chair as he draws him. Tony's heart jumps at the sight. He's tempted to slide into the line for Steve's booth himself, but something holds him back. It could be the look of contentment on Steve's face or the kid's near infectious excitement—Tony feels like he's intruding on something private. Someone else's life. Someone else's dream. 

His heart pangs in his chest as the little boy jumps as soon as his drawing is finished and throws himself into Steve's arms. Steve startles but recovers quickly, giving the kid a polite hug back. 

For some reason, Tony thinks of the kid he met not even a year ago when everyone thought he was dead: Harley. Tony didn't hug Harley. He didn't have it in him to hug Harley. The kid deserved it, though, for dealing with Tony's shit. Tony liked kids well enough, but having one of his own? He would never admit it out loud, but it scared him. And Steve...Steve deserved more than a coward. 

There's less energy in his steps as he turns around and walks right back to the basketball booth. 

He knows he still has time left on his break, but for some reason, he can't bring himself to care. 

He finishes his shift with little fanfare, the carnival-goers opting for the rides and fair food after loading up on prizes for the day. 

His head's all foggy like he just got up from a nap. He's so out of it, he doesn't even realize that the others are walking up to his booth. Tony blinks slowly, trying to ignore the pressure building in his forehead, a sure sign of a headache. 

"Hey," Steve says when they make it to his booth. "You about ready?"

Tony winces, prompting the others to look him up and down. 

"You okay? What's bothering you?" Clint asks. 

"Just got a headache," Tony says, stepping out from his booth, giving Jake a wave. Jake waves back, trying his best not to look starstruck at the sight of the other Avengers.

"Did you eat at all?" Natasha asks, and as soon as she says something, his stomach growls. 

"Guess not," Bruce says. 

"You must eat," Thor says gently. "A warrior such as yourself must maintain your strength."

He knows they're right, but being confronted by all of them at once has his hackles rising. Carmen's words are getting all tangled up with Pepper's, and he can't. Stop. Thinking. 

"I will," he says, aware that they're watching him more closely now. He hopes that he doesn't look as unsound as he feels. "But why leave just yet? Don't you guys want to check out some of the booths or rides before we leave?" 

Steve starts to object, but Natasha is one second faster. "I did want to beat Clint at Shoot 'em Up," she says with a smirk. 

Steve looks ready to protest, but Clint cuts him off. "Oh, you're on," he says. "Loser has to do the other's paperwork for two weeks." 

"Prepare to drown in files, Barton," Natasha says, catching Tony's eye. 

Tony nods at her. A _Thank you_. 

She flips her hair over her shoulder. _You're welcome_. He doesn't know when they learned to read each other so well. 

Clint and Natasha make their way to the sharpshooting booth, Thor and Bruce walking along behind them. 

"You sure you're okay?" Steve asks, scanning Tony from head to toe. Steve can see through him so easily, his skin might as well be made of glass.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Tony says. "Come on. Let's catch up before they kill each other."

* * *

Natasha and Clint tie in Shoot 'em Up. Since Tony is on a team that consists entirely of children, they extend their competition to every booth in the carnival. Steve warms up as the day goes on, even joining in on their little competition along with Thor. Tony and Bruce are just content to watch. 

Thor ropes Steve into the strongman game, which attracts a crowd, but who would turn down the sight of two handsome, well-built men lifting heavy things and showing off their muscles? Tony certainly couldn't, and given the way Bruce eyes the bulge of Thor's biceps, neither could he. 

Steve rings the bell easily and wins, of all things, a Captain Ameribear for his trouble. 

"Aw," Tony says. "It has wings on its helmet too."

"Are we just going to ignore the fact that it came with a shield pillow?" Clint asks. 

Steve blushes, but it's all in good fun. Thor, of course, breaks the game, the bell flying clean off the top of the tower. The game runner in awe (and a little bit of fear) gives Thor a prize regardless. Tony promises to compensate the man as soon as possible. Despite all of that, his headache has receded slightly. He needs to eat _now_ , and that barbecue is starting to smell better and better. 

Tony's so caught up in drooling over a rack of ribs or some trashed wings he barely notices the others walking off to the next booth, Steve lingering behind to wait on him. 

"Sorry," Tony says. "Guess I'm out of it. You...you don't have to wait on me, you know." 

Steve shrugs. "No one's forcing me. Spending time with you isn't a chore. This actually works out." 

Tony smiles despite himself. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing," Steve says. "I just wanted you to have this." Steve hands the bear over to Tony, and Tony...Tony _melts_ because Steve is so fucking cute and sweet, and how did the hell did he end up in Tony's life? 

Tony takes the bear, and maybe it's the lack of food in his system, but the urge to cry at Steve's kindness strikes him. The bear _is_ cute with Steve's signature red, white, and blue suit and the shield to go along with it. "Thank you," Tony says. "You sure you want me to hold onto this?" 

Steve looks at him from underneath his lashes. "Tony," he begins, "it's a gift. I _want_ you to have it." 

"Okay," Tony whispers, feeling like the air is closing in on him. It's hard to breathe when Steve looks at him like that, like Tony _means_ something to him. 

"Besides," Steve says, leaning in close to him. "I'm gonna clean the booths out. I'm trying to beat the super spies. Can you keep him safe for me?" 

Steve's breath, cool and minty, washes over his face. Tony has to blink a few times, processing what just happened before he can even think about speaking. 

"Are you guys coming, or are you just going to gaze into each other's eyes?" Clint shouts from the next booth over. 

Tony jumps and hurries to rejoin the others, Steve right behind him, staring into his back.

True to his word, Steve cleans out every booth they touch, until he's practically drowning in stuffed animals. They attract a crowd as they make their way to the food court. Tony's feet are aching, and his stomach is outright roaring for sustenance. He and Thor get the biggest plate of ribs they've got to offer. The meat's so tender it's falling off the bone and smoked to perfection. The sauce they used is homemade, all tang and smoky sweetness. He eats until his stomach is about ready to burst. 

Thor's singing the cooks' praises and their delicious Midgardian cuisine and rises to go get seconds, Bruce trailing after him.

Clint runs off to the bathroom, and something catches Steve's eye. Tony follows his gaze to the herd of children trying (and failing) to watch them eat without freaking out. Steve rises from the table, taking his prizes with him, leaving just Tony and Natasha behind.

"Sometimes, I can't believe he's real," Natasha says, breaking the silence. There's no need to wonder who's the "he" she's talking about. Tony thinks it himself sometimes. 

It's hard not to when kids start lining up single file for their turn to receive a stuffed animal from Steve. 

"Me neither," Tony says. "Howard...he'd tell me all these stories of Steve and the 'good old days'...Steve single-handedly storming a HYDRA facility. Throwing himself on a grenade to give others the chance to live. I always thought he was embellishing a little. Making war stories more digestible for a kid, you know? But seeing him, _knowing_ him? You can't help but wonder how someone can be so _good_."

"He's not like you," Natasha says. He doesn't even have it in himself to be offended. She's right. Steve isn't like Tony and will never be like Tony. A little rough around the edges. "He's not like me, either," she admits, catching Tony by surprise. 

"He's the best of us," Tony says. He glances at her. Natasha sits forward, resting her head upon her palm. Her face is smooth, her cheeks still tinged pink from their rowdy tramping through the fairgrounds. She looks...raw. That's the only word to describe her. Raw and real and human. Not the robot switching personalities and names and appearances like most people change clothes. 

"You make him that way," she says, shocking him again. His stomach drops, and whatever peace between them quickly disintegrates. What does she mean by that? What could she possibly know about him and Steve and all the complexities of their relationship? 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tony says, his voice coming out thin. 

Something in Natasha’s face softens, and she tilts her head at Tony. “I’m not going to pretend I know all of the details, but…you’re good for him. And I think he’s good for you. You’re both...softer. You look happy.” 

It’s like someone’s dumped cold water down Tony’s back; he’s so in shock he can barely register what Natasha is saying. He swallows. Natasha knows. Of _course_ , she knows, and if it weren’t her job to gather intel and pick up on context clues, he’d be a lot more worried that the others knew. But she wasn’t blackmailing him or threatening him to stay away from Steve? She...approved of them? He remembers that debriefing after they had defeated Loki, what felt like a lifetime ago, and her casual dismissal of Tony and his relationship with Steve. He wants to bring it up, to confront her, but what’s there to confront? 

He brings it up anyway. “Still think he wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole?” 

Natasha tilts her head at him again, and he hates how sweaty his palms have gotten, and the hummingbird beating of his heart, like his relationship with Steve hinges on her opinion. 

“No,” she says slowly as if to weigh her words. “He wants you too much. I don’t think he could give you up even if he wanted to.” 

As if summoned, Steve comes bounding back to their table looking boyish and vibrant in the evening sun before Tony can process her words. 

"What I miss?" he says with a breathless grin, holding onto one last stuffed animal. 

"Nothing much," Tony says before Natasha can say anything incriminating. His eyes dart down to the last stuffed animal in Steve's arms. It's an Iron Man bear, of course, all done up in the telltale red and gold of Tony's suit. "What's the deal, no one wanted him?" he says, nodding to the bear. 

Steve looks down at the Iron Bear, and what he says next might actually make Tony melt into a puddle. "Nah. Couldn't bear to give him up."

Tony ignores Natasha's pointed look and hopes that his face isn't as red as he thinks it is. 

“Clint, you’re riding with me on the Ferris wheel,” Natasha declares when everyone makes it back to their table, and Steve has successfully made Tony as red as his suit. 

“A Ferris wheel?” Thor asks, arching his brow. 

“It’s a carnival classic,” Clint says. “It’s a giant wheel that lifts you into the air. Perfect way to end the day.”

“It’s older than Cap,” Natasha throws in helpfully, smirking at Steve when he shoots her an exasperated look. 

“Your Midgardian traditions are so strange,” Thor says. “Interesting, but strange.” 

“I’m not hearing a no,” Clint says. 

“Hm.” Thor turns to look at Bruce, who looked surprisingly (and thankfully) content with himself. “Would you like to ride with me, Doctor Banner?”

Bruce reddens, and Tony doesn't feel so alone because it looks like Bruce has his own beefy blond problem he needs to deal with. "Sure, since you asked," Bruce responds, leaving just...Steve. 

Steve shares a look with Natasha, and Tony gets the sneaking suspicion that they planned this. Who knew that the fall of SHIELD would lead to one of the most dangerous alliances Tony had ever seen? 

"Tony," Steve begins, sounding like he's about to propose, he's so serious. "Want to ride with me?" 

His heartbeat quickens, and he's not sure why. It's not like it's a public declaration of love to ride with someone on a Ferris wheel. 

It'd look weird if he takes too long to answer, so Tony says, "Yeah. Sounds like a plan." 

They toss their trash and pick up their respective prizes they won throughout the day, Natasha with her light-up sword, Clint with his stuffed dog. Thor's lion hat from the strongman game sits proudly atop his head. Tony wants to make a joke about Hercules, but he also doesn't want to deal with the guaranteed headache he'll get when Thor replies with some mind-bending statement like he and Hercules are gym bros or other. Tony and Steve walk side by side, far behind the rest of their little group, bears in one hand, their free hands brushing with each step. 

Part of him knows that if he just reached over...if he took that extra step for Steve's hand...Steve would let him. It'd be so easy…

The line to the Ferris wheel isn't too long, and by the time Tony works up the courage to take Steve's hand, the volunteers are strapping them in. 

One of the volunteers lowers the bar over their heads, making sure that they're secure, and that's it. Tony's trapped. He's stuck on this Ferris wheel for the next ten minutes, and Steve is so goddamn _close_ he can feel how hot his skin is from being out in the sun and—

"I'm not gonna bite, you know," Steve mutters when they start to ascend. He won't meet Tony's eyes. "I...I know you're afraid of me."

Tony swallows, his stomach twisting into knots at the thought of Steve thinking he feared _him_. 

"I'm not...Steve, I'm not afraid of _you_ ," Tony says. Steve's still looking down. He doesn't know where he gets the courage, but he cups Steve's face and makes him look at him. "You hear me? I'm not afraid of you."

Steve's eyes have always been a weakness of Tony's, and right now, when they're so big and blue and so fucking _sad_ , it doesn't do him any favors. They're almost at the top of the wheel. A stray breeze rustles a lock of Steve's hair, and Tony feels like he's on a cliff's edge. 

"Then why—" Steve begins, only to be cut off by Tony's lips. Tony closes his eyes and answers Steve the only way he knows how.

It's cliche, but Tony swears he can see fireworks going off behind his eyelids. Steve's lips are warm and soft and pliant against his. Tony deepens the kiss and slides one of his hands into Steve's hair, the other remaining on his face. He can taste the remnants of cotton candy on Steve's mouth. 

They break apart because, unfortunately, air is necessary to live. Tony has half a mind to invent a way for humans to survive without air if it meant he could spend the rest of his life kissing Steve. 

This high up, with the sun setting behind them, Tony wishes he had at least brought a jacket. 

Steve lifts his arm, "Here," he says. "Lean into me." Tony does just that and tucks his body into Steve's side, his arm is a reassuring weight around him.

The others are too far back to see Tony and Steve. It's easy up here, easy to forget that Steve's Captain America and Tony's a barely functioning former alcoholic with a slew of mental issues. 

He looks at Steve out the corner of his eye, takes in his features shamelessly and selfishly, the allure of being above everyone reeling him in. He loves Steve's face, the cut of his jaw, and his long, pretty lashes and those _eyes_. It's painful looking at him. Sometimes it feels like his heart's gonna swell up and pop right out of his chest when he looks at Steve. 

In that moment, he's glad they went to the carnival if only to forget the world for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me being somewhat consistent. In case you didn't read my first note, I'm tentatively setting a goal to have Chapter 5 up by February 7 at the latest. Feel free to yell at me if it takes longer than that. 
> 
> Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are much appreciated. I love seeing your guys' reactions even if it's just a string of emojis 💖
> 
> Check out my [tumblr](https://imperialstark.tumblr.com) for more stony/marvel content
> 
> Lurk on my [nsfw tumblr](https://starrytony.tumblr.com)
> 
> See you guys soon!


	5. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old enemy re-emerges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's!! Finally!! Here!! Y'all do not have any idea how excited I've been to post this chapter. I really think it's my best one yet. Aside for a little warning that there _is_ some violence and gore (nothing crazy) in this chapter, I'm not going to say too much in the notes because I don't want to spoil it. 
> 
> Enjoy this chapter!
> 
> (P.S. Friendly reminder that I don't own Marvel or the MCU or anything related to it. This fic is just for funsies.)

Whatever peace they have following the carnival quickly dies when HYDRA rears its ugly head. Again. Tony hates how devoted they are to living up to their namesake. He had hoped that they would take their time to regroup after the fall of SHIELD, but apparently, four months was more than enough time. HYDRA's power ran that strong. 

Tony watches Steve throughout the briefing. He's been watching Steve a lot more lately. Ever since that ride on the Ferris wheel, he's been trying to be more open, more inviting, Steve taking to his attentions like a starving man to freshwater. Steve's all business right now. His jaw clenched, he's scrolling through the digital files JARVIS compiled for them on a tablet with a single-minded focus. His free hand rests on his knee curled into a fist. Tony can practically see the rage in him rising like a tidal wave. He can't imagine how Steve feels, to devote himself to something, to _die_ for it, only for his sacrifice to be for naught. 

"God, these guys are like roaches," Clint says, cutting through the silence, tossing his tablet down on the table. "They could survive a nuclear winter." 

"So what's the plan here, Cap?" Natasha says, leaning forward in her chair. "You've got the most experience with HYDRA out of any of us." 

Steve sets his tablet down. "What we're going to do," he says, his voice colder than Tony's ever heard it, "is go for the head." 

"We strike fast, and we strike hard, leave them absolutely no time to recoup. HYDRA, no doubt, has a number of facilities at their disposal. We find them, and we burn them to the ground. Any operatives who surrender _will_ be turned into the proper authorities. We don't want another Zola."

"JARVIS, can you pull up a three-dimensional render of the base?" Tony says. 

"Of course, sir," JARVIS says. 

A bright blue hologram appeared over the center of their table. Steve stands up and starts to circle it. He could practically see the wheels behind Steve's head turning, formulating a strategy from the bottom up. 

"They were smart when they made this base," Steve says. "It's incorporated into the mountain top. They'll be able to see us coming from all sides." 

Bruce speaks up. "What if we approach from the west? It looks like there's a pretty dense forest; we could use it for coverage."

"A ground assault would be suicide," Tony says, rising from his seat to take a closer look at the hologram. Steve moves over, making room for Tony to stand beside him. "They could have bunkers, watchguards, tanks, the works. We'd be fish in a barrel." 

"An aerial assault then," Thor suggests. "So we won't be caught unaware."

Steve gives the idea some thought, a muscle in his jaw working. "Tony and you could fly ahead and scout for assailants."

"That could work," Tony says. His mind is racing, running through all of the possible outcomes of their fledgling plan. The others could stay behind in the quinjet, and he _had_ recently added retro-reflective paneling to it. "Once we give you the all-clear, we'll be right on top of them and—" 

"We'll have the element of surprise on our side," Steve finishes.

"And once we reach the base?" Natasha asks. 

"That's the easy part, Nat," Clint says. "We give 'em hell." 

* * *

They finalize their plans and run them by Fury and what remains of SHIELD. They'll head out tomorrow morning, just before dawn, to catch them off guard. The others have left the war room, either to train or to get some rest. Steve sits at the table alone, the hologram casting his face in blue light. 

"Penny for your thoughts," Tony murmurs so as not to startle him. 

Steve glances at him and smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. 

"Talk to me, Steve," Tony says. "What's bugging you?" 

Steve sighs. "It'd be easier to list what isn't bugging me." 

With a sudden surge of daring, Tony steps off from where he'd been leaning against the wall and slides onto Steve's lap. Steve lets him, his hands settling on Tony's hips like they belong there. Tony wraps his arms around his neck and leans in. 

"Am I bugging you?" he whispers. 

"Never," Steve says fiercely, his grip on Tony's hips tightening. 

"That's one," Tony jokes. "Can't think of any others?" 

Steve presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Your smile." Another kiss on the tip of his nose this time, making Tony chuckle. "Your laugh." 

"Okay, Romeo," Tony says, laughing. "I get it. That's three, I guess." 

Steve smiles, a bigger one than the last one. His thumb has slid under Tony's shirt, rubbing circles into his hip. "Thank you," he murmurs. "It's just... I'm worried about the mission." 

"And why is that?" Tony asks like an idiot until he remembers that this base is located in the Alps, where so many things went catastrophically wrong for Steve. 

Steve's smile falls just as quickly as it came, and Tony kicks himself mentally for being the one to do it. "Whenever HYDRA's involved, things tend to go south pretty quick." 

"I gave my life to putting an end to HYDRA, and no matter what I do," Steve whispers, more to himself than to Tony, "they always come back. They always come back and take something from me. I'm fighting a war with no end, Tony." 

Tony cups Steve's face in his hands. "But you're still fighting," Tony says softly. "The second you stop, that's when they win. That's when there's no coming back." His thumb brushes over Steve's cheek, wiping away a stray eyelash. Sitting this close, Steve looked so _young_. Tony forgot that mentally, Steve was only twenty-nine. He carried himself with an age-old grace and had suffered so _much_ …

"And you're not fighting alone. You never did. You had the Commandos," Tony says. He doesn't know where he's going with this, but he'll do anything to take that grimace off of Steve's face. 

" _No one should be this alone_ ," he thinks. 

"You have the Avengers," he continues. "You have me." 

"I've got you?" Steve asks. His voice sounds small, unsure. 

"You've got me. You'll always have me," Tony confirms. 

"I'm holding you to that," Steve says. 

"I'm a man of my word," Tony replies. 

Steve tilts Tony's head up, and they don't say anything after that. Not for a while.

* * *

It's supposed to be a run-of-the-mill ambush, so of course, they're met with the modern-day equivalent of hellfire and brimstone—in HYDRA's case, a volley of gunfire. One second, Tony's flying over a mountain pass, thanking his lucky stars that his flight suit is insulated, the next a bright blue bolt of pure energy strikes him in one of his thrusters, sending him spiraling. Another shot sends Tony plummeting towards the earth in an ironic facsimile of the Battle of New York. 

The same terror grips him, that awful feeling of weightlessness and pressure all at once. He barely registers the shouts of the others over the comms before his sense finally kicks in, and he deploys the flaps meant to slow his fall. 

The impact still rattles his bones, and for an awful second, Tony swears his brain is shaking around in his skull. Whatever guns HYDRA were using _had_ to be enhanced somehow because there's no way two shots from any old machine gun would take him out so easily. 

He's landed in a snowbank, thankfully. Tony always knew that there was a possibility that his suit would be his coffin, but he didn't want to bite the dust just yet. 

" _Pepper would yell at me,_ " he thinks, still trying to calm his racing mind down. " _And Rhodey. And Happy. And Steve. Steve—_ "

"Iron Man? Iron Man, do you copy?" That's Steve's voice. There's an urgent note to it, almost like he's trying to stop himself from shouting. 

Tony blinks once, twice, and tries to answer him. "I'm fine, Cap. Just disoriented." 

"What's your location?" Natasha asks curtly, cutting off whatever Steve was going to say. Tony can hear gunfire in the background, and hurried commands barked out in Russian.

"J?" he asks. Tony used a separate comms unit precisely for moments like these when his suit might be compromised. "You there, buddy?" 

"Always, sir." 

Relief floods through Tony. He's not totally helpless if JARVIS is still on the line. 

"Can you send my location to the others?"

"With pleasure, sir." 

"Got it," Natasha says a second later. "I'm sending Thor to you. But first, Hawkeye, let's show these boys a little reciprocity, hm?" Natasha's voice is like ice. Tony almost feels bad for those poor HYDRA agents operating those machine guns. Almost. If only they weren't the scum of the earth. 

Tony can't see the quinjet anymore, but he can sure as hell hear it as Natasha unloads a barrage of bullets aimed directly at the turrets surrounding the HYDRA bunker. Never has he ever been more thankful for retro-reflective paneling. There's a pause in the gunfire, presumably from the HYDRA goons taking cover and Natasha ceasing her fire to allow Thor to reach him unharmed. 

In the meantime, Tony needs to figure out what he can salvage. 

"Is it just me, or do those guns remind anybody else of the Chitauri's weapons?" Clint says over the comms.

Thor lands in the snowbank, sending the snow into a flurry. He stalks towards Tony, his red cape fluttering in the wind. Lightning dances at his fingertips, and paired with the fury painting his face red, Tony would think it was directed at him. 

"Iron Man? Are you alright?" Thor asks when he reaches Tony. 

"I'm fine, just disoriented," Tony says, which is the truth. The snow broke most of the fall. Aside from a few minor cuts and bruises, he's alright. It's not the worst mission he's been on. Yet. 

"Your suit," Thor says. "Can you fly?"

Tony looks down, observing the damage. The gunfire's resumed, Natasha and Clint aiming with deadly accuracy. Good. That makes his job easier. The thrusters in his boots are shot, but his HUD and hand repulsors are still functioning. 

"Don't think so," Tony says. "Can I get a lift? I'll tip you." 

Thor chuckles, some of the fierceness in his stance deteriorating. "He's alright," Thor says. "He can still joke." 

"That's a relief," Clint says, actually sounding relieved. "Who else is gonna call me out on my bullshit?"

With Thor's help, Tony strips out of the armor pieces that are nothing more than dead weight until he's down to his helmet, gauntlets, and chest piece. 

"Cease your fire," Thor says, wrapping an arm around Tony's waist. "We're joining the fray." And they're off. Thor's flying is different from Tony's own; Mjolnir functions as a weight, taking them into the mountain top's direction. It's completely flat on top, akin to a plateau. Every twenty feet is a gunman armed with what looks like a modified Chitauri gun. They're firing blindly, still looking out for the quinjet. "We're coming in," Tony says. "And Hawkeye, you're right. This does look like Chitarui weaponry." 

"Can you say that again so I can record it?" 

"In your dreams," Tony says. Thor lets go of Tony when they're safe to land. Tony rolls into the fall, landing in a crouch. The HYDRA gunman spots them, but before they can pull their handgun sitting at their waist, Tony's already fired two blasts from his repulsor, sending them flying. Thor sends Mjolnir flying through the machine gun, shattering it into hundreds of metal shards sparking and sputtering like the last embers of a fire. 

"One machine gun down," Tony reports. He stalks over to the HYDRA agent he shot and takes the handgun for himself. Ignoring the agent's blank, dead stare, he looks over the gun, trying to get a feel for how it functions. It's all sleek curves and silver chrome, a current of cobalt energy coursing through it like blood. He aims the gun and pulls what he hopes is the trigger at the gunner. The HYDRA agent screams as Tony's shot makes its target, charring his skin. "Make that two," Tony says. "The north side of the base is clear." 

"I'm dropping Cap off," Natasha says. "The north side is too small to land the jet." 

Mere seconds later, Steve's landing near them from seemingly nowhere, looking ready to kill. His eyes looking over Tony, "You okay?" he says, his voice rough. 

"I'm alright," Tony says. They can talk later. There's still a mission to finish. 

"There's four gunners on the western side," Steve says. "How long do you think until they call for reinforcements?"

The thundering sound of footsteps on concrete answers Steve's question. 

"Not long," Tony snarls and rounds the corner with Steve and Thor flanking him. One of the agents who abandoned the machine gun has a regular pistol aimed right at Tony. Steve moves like lightning, lifting his shield in front of Tony. The bullet ricochets and lodges into the agent's skull. 

Tony will thank him later, for now, they have to keep on moving. They need to clear space for Natasha to land. 

It's like he, Steve, and Thor have a telepathic link with how well they fight together, making quick work of the HYDRA agents and their alien weapons. " _It could be a dance,_ " Tony thinks, as they push forward. Thor wields Mjolnir with grace and finesse; it might as well be an extension of his arm. It's the hallmark of a person who's spent half their life spilling blood. Tony's the same when he has a gun in his hands, and this modified Chitauri gun is no different. Aiming and firing with the intent to kill, his weapons are all too happy to listen. And Steve, Steve fights with a dancer's grace, lethal power behind every one of his attacks. 

If he were a religious man, he could almost believe that he was meant to do this. That he was destined to fight by their side. 

The party truly starts when Natasha lands the quinjet. Bruce emerges, already going green, and it's through him that they're able to bust down the doors and breach the base. 

A fierce jolt of pride runs through him at the sight of Natasha and Clint wielding the batons and bow he made for them specifically, and he fights with a renewed sense of purpose. The HYDRA agents storm them all at once, but what's fifty men and women to six pissed off Avengers? 

The answer is nothing. The Hulk alone takes out ten agents, tossing them about like a child would a toy. Clint's converted his bow into its bo staff form while they're enclosed, keeping close to Natasha's side. 

Only four HYDRA agents remain standing when they finally surrender. The rest lie, unmoving, the smell of blood and sweat and burned skin filling the room like a sickly perfume. 

Steve sends Natasha, Tony, and Thor off with a nod, while he, Clint, and the Hulk stand guard. They have their own missions to fulfill. 

Tony and Nat find the base's command center, while Thor keeps going, muttering under his breath. 

He retracts his helmet, lets himself breathe. The air is stale and dank, reminding him far too much of Afghanistan for his taste. 

"Easy, Tony," Natasha says when she notices him hyperventilating. "We made it. We'll be leaving soon. We just need to find what we came for." 

"Right," he says. "Right." He came for SHIELD secrets; cover stories, mission files, safe houses, that sort of thing. It takes JARVIS no time at all to hack into HYDRA's system. 

As he's finishing up, he overhears Natasha say, "Oh, my God." 

Instantly he's on guard. "What's wrong?" 

As soon as he speaks, Thor comes back into the command center, his face grave. "There's something you should see." 

"But," Natasha begins. 

"I believe it might be related to what you found. Follow me." 

Tony doesn't know what he's expecting as Thor takes them down a series of hallways, the light growing dimmer and dimmer the further they go. He's not expecting a girl. At least he thinks it's a girl. It's hard to tell when their skin has been completely stripped off their body.

* * *

Tony can't say he's paying attention during the debriefing. It's hard to when every time he closes his eyes, all he sees is pink exposed flesh. Thor had been looking for Loki's staff. They had let it stay in SHIELD's custody in 2012 and two years later were kicking themselves for it. He said that he tried to follow its magical signature, and it had led him to...that girl. Or what was left of her. 

When the debriefing is adjourned, he comes away with three things. First, someone ratted them out. Second, if someone ratted them out, then SHIELD was still compromised. Third, HYDRA was conducting human experimentation. 

It wasn't surprising, given their history. During the war, they had taken prisoners of war and conducted all kinds of horrific experiments on them. As far as he knew, only one made it out alive, if you could even call it living. James "Bucky" Barnes had survived HYDRA's experiments only to be subjected to a worse kind of torture. 

Seventy years and HYDRA was still the scum of the earth.

By the time Tony gets an all-clear from the medics, all he wants is to take a nice, scalding shower, and he does just that. 

When he emerges from the bathroom, Tony can't say he's surprised when he finds Steve, still suited up, sitting on the couch with his helmet in his hands. 

Tony makes himself known, knocking on the wall. 

Steve's eyes flit up to meet his, and Tony's surprised to see that they're red. 

"Tony," Steve breathes his name like a prayer, and it's like someone's punched Tony directly in his chest. Every time Steve says his name like _that_ , it always leads to something electrifying. Tony's eager to see him, eager to wipe the blood and the bodies of the day's events from his mind. 

He walks further into his living room, and Steve rises to meet him until they're standing chest to chest. Tony has to look up at Steve, but Steve's never held it over him like others. It should scare him, how small Steve makes him feel. But Tony doesn't feel helpless. 

If anything, he has the power to bring Steve to his knees. 

Steve's hands are on Tony's waist, and he's shot back to the first time they stood like this, close enough to catch each other's breath. That first time had been an exploration—an adventure in learning each other's bodies. 

Steve kisses him, hot and desperate, tugging at Tony's clothes. 

This time it's a reassurance. 

A fevered kiss— _You're okay._ Every fleeting touch a " _stay with me._ "

Tony kisses him back. 

"We're okay," he whispers into Steve's mouth. 

"I saw you _fall_ ," Steve's voice cracks. "I saw you fall, and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it."

Tony cups Steve's face in his hand. Steve closes his eyes, leaning into Tony's touch. When he opens them, his eyelashes are clumped with tears. 

"I'm alive," he says. "I'm alive, and I'm here with _you_. That's all that matters. You and me."

Steve shudders. "God, Tony, I need—I need—"

"I know," Tony says, and the next few moments are naught but a blur. They kiss again and make their way to Tony's bedroom, occasionally stopping to feel each other up or get rid of a piece of clothing. When they finally make it to Tony's bedroom, they're both down to their boxers. 

Idly, Tony realizes this is the first time they've messed around in an actual bedroom, especially _his_ bedroom. 

Except when Steve breaks their kiss to lift him up by his thighs and walk them over to his massive bed...when he lays Tony down gently like he's something precious...it doesn't feel like messing around anymore. Messing around put him in the mind of two teenagers fumbling around the backseat of a car, desperate to get themselves off and themselves only. 

Don't get him wrong, the desperation was there as Tony wraps his legs around Steve's trim waist, but there wasn't a selfish bite to it. 

Steve Rogers is desperate for love. His entire body thrums with it, in the way he slips his tongue into Tony's mouth and grips one of Tony's hips in a harsh grip, hard enough to bruise. It's fine, though. Steve will kiss every one of his bruises later as penance. 

Maybe Tony shouldn't engage in such strenuous activity after _another_ death experience, but he got the all-clear from SHIELD's medics themselves. If he sustains a concussion, that's on them. 

Tony's already hard and straining against the confines of his boxers. He can feel Steve, hard and leaking pre-come through the thin fabric of his boxers. 

They could come together, just like this, hell they _have_ come together like this, but today is different. Today, Tony almost died _again_ , and today Steve fought like a demon sent from hell for _him_ and—

" _Oh_." 

Tony loves him. 

He's in love with him. 

It's no great shock to him, not really. There's no fireworks, no lightning strikes, just a subtle shift in his paradigm, like someone zooming out on a camera. 

Steve pulls back from their kiss to look at him, and Tony's gone. From Tony's penthouse suite, he has the perfect view of the sun in the evening. It's midday, and the sun, not quite setting, casts shafts of light into his room, catching the blond of Steve's mussed hair until it shines like hammered gold.

Steve has lifted the veil off of his face, and Tony can see the reverence in his gaze untempered. Tony's stomach clenches. He feels like an animal, like some feral beast has taken up residence in his skin, wanting to claim and be claimed. 

" _This is how Steve feels. This is how he's felt from the beginning_." 

He's not an artist, not like Steve, but he understands the appeal of wanting to capture a moment forever in all of its rawness. He wants to get some paints and canvas and immortalize Steve precisely as he is right now: wild and devout. To _him_. 

Steve's thumb traces the outline of Tony's mouth and pushes at Tony's bottom lip. Steve gasps when Tony parts his lips and takes Steve's thumb into his mouth. He recovers quickly, pressing his thumb deeper into Tony's mouth. The salt of Steve's flesh coats his tongue, but for once, Tony feels like the hunter. 

Steve's thumb becomes his pointer and middle fingers. Tony sucks them, lathing at them with his tongue until they're slick and glistening when Steve withdraws them from his mouth. 

Tony blindly grasps for the drawer of his nightstand, rooting around until he finds what he's looking for: a bottle of lube. 

He passes it to Steve, who flicks open the cap with his thumb. 

"Ah," he breathes as the lube hits his skin, all cool and wet. 

Steve's fingers, slick with Tony's saliva and lube, ghost around his perineum. He's thankful he had the good sense to shower beforehand, although he couldn't have foreseen this happening. Steve always caught him by surprise. 

Steve starts Tony out slow, with only one thick finger working its way inside of him. The stretch, while familiar, takes some getting used to. It'd been so long since he'd truly been with another man. 

A second finger joins the first, stretching Tony to the point of discomfort. In the back of his mind, Tony had always _known_ that Steve's hands were big, but having them stretch him out was an entirely different matter. 

Despite his initial discomfort, his cock is still hard, dribbling pre-come onto his stomach. 

"Breathe for me, baby," Steve says, and it hits Tony then. This is the first time they've had sex. All of their other moments had been fleeting, full of fevered grinding and hot mouths and rough hands when they had time to spare. 

Tony's _naked_ in front of Steve, and he's in love with him, and he doesn't know what's worse. 

"Hey," Steve says softly like he's comforting a spooked horse. " _Breathe_." 

Tony closes his eyes and does as he's told. Some of the tension leaves his body as Steve's voice washes over him. 

"You have no idea, do you? How gorgeous you are?"

"Tell me," Tony finds himself saying. Steve's working his fingers in and out of Tony now, searching, searching…

It's getting harder to think straight. 

"I'd burn for you," Steve says. "I want you so much, I'm fucking dizzy with it." Steve twists his fingers, and Tony sees starlight behind his eyes.

Steve's fingers are relentless against his prostate, scissoring and splitting him wide open. 

"Do that again," Tony somehow manages to gasp out. "Fuck, Steve, _please_." 

Steve, bastard that he is, withdraws his fingers from Tony's entrance, and if Tony whines, that's between him and God. 

"I think I like you like this," Steve says instead, pressing his fingers into the meat of Tony's thighs. A shiver runs down Tony's spine at the hungry look in Steve's eyes. 

" _A wolf closing in for the kill._ "

"Like what?" Tony finds himself saying. 

Steve tilts his head and runs a hand up Tony's thigh until he's tantalizingly close to cupping his cock. "Desperate. Wanting. Regardless of what you want to call it, I like seeing you as wrecked as I've felt these past couple of months."

Wrecked is definitely the right word. Tony's willpower is equal to that of a Jenga tower right now. One wrong move (or right one depending on who you ask), and he'll come tumbling down, and Steve will have to pick up his pieces. 

Tony's lips part when Steve takes him into his hand, a soft gasp escaping them as he spreads the wetness of his pre-come along his cock. Heat pools low in his belly, and Tony finds himself spreading his legs wider, baring himself for Steve to use however he pleases. 

"Are you going to wreck me?" Tony says. 

Steve's grip tightens on his cock, and Tony bucks up into his fist, his hands flying up to make contact with Steve's skin. "I don't want to wreck you," Steve says, eyes burning. "I want to worship you." 

"That's blasphemous, Rogers," Tony says. Worship. Like he's something pure. Like he's someone worth loving.

In the most shocking plot twist of his life, Steve Rogers, Captain _fucking_ America, says, "Who the fuck needs a god when I have you?" 

It's a far cry from the "aw, shucks" wholesome Irish Catholic mask Steve dons, but Tony shouldn't be too surprised. This is the same man who got him off at the dinner table. And the shower. And the helicarrier.

There's still a part of Tony that thinks he doesn't deserve it, such utter devotion, such attraction (he won't _dare_ call it the other word he's thinking of lest he get his hopes up,) but for what seems like the umpteenth time, he decides to ignore his doubts.

" _This moment is mine_. _If he stays, or if he leaves, this will always be mine_." He'll take whatever he can get from Steve with eager hands. 

Steve's hand reaches for the lube once more, the other jerking Tony off at an agonizingly slow pace until he's truly hard and leaking pre-come all over Steve's fist. 

Steve slicks up his cock, and Tony's toes curl at the thought of all of that going inside him. He wants it, though. He wants Steve like he's never wanted anything else in his life. 

Tony isn't new to desire or lust, but the need burning inside of him like a red-hot coal consumes him in its intensity. 

"Steve, _please_ ," he says, hating the desperate chord in his voice. "Wreck me, worship me, do whatever you _want_ , just do _something_." 

Steve swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, and he nods. "Fuck, Tony. Okay." 

He lets go of Tony's cock, but Tony has no time to beg because he's lining himself up with Tony's entrance. 

Tony can practically hear his heart beating in his chest over the sound of Steve's steady, even breathing. Steve presses into him so slowly, so carefully like he's trying not to break Tony in half.

" _Fuck that_ ," he thinks.

Tony cants his hips up, teasing Steve's cock, and says, "I can take it. I want you to _fuck_ me, Steve." 

Steve's hands clamp down on either side of Tony's hips, and Tony knows he's won this round when he sees the dark look in Steve's eyes. He plunges into Tony, fucking a sharp gasp out of him. Tony's not a virgin by any means. His playboy reputation is a well-earned one. But it's been so long since he's been _full_. Steve's only halfway in him, and yet Tony feels like he's in his _stomach_. 

"Is this what you wanted?" Steve asks, withdrawing slightly to add more lube. He pushed back into Tony, the lube squelching obscenely as his hips slap against Tony's. Tony's face, his everything, is red, but he'll take it. He _wants_ it. 

"Yes," he says, wrapping his legs around Steve's waist, effectively trapping him. "I wanted you."

"You have me," Steve says, his voice hoarse and wretched. "You'll always have me." 

Steve tilts his hips just slightly, but the change in angle is enough to make Tony clench around him as his cock presses incessantly against that sweet, electrifying spot inside of Tony. 

They both curse, Tony at the change in angle, the lightning in his blood, Steve at Tony's sudden tightness, and Steve fucks into him in earnest. 

Tony's being unmade. He's unraveling at the seams like a worn-out sweater, and Steve's stitching him back together. 

Their skin is tacky with sweat and lube, and the clean-up will be awful, but Tony doesn't care as the reality of the day hits him. Tony almost _died_. He almost died, and he loves Steve, and he should tell him while he has the chance. 

Steve buries his head into Tony's neck. "I almost lost you," he says, his voice breaking. 

"You didn't," Tony gasps. 

Steve doesn't say anything, just presses into Tony harder, like he's trying to seep into Tony's skin. Tony throws a hand over his mouth to stifle his moans even though it's just them, but Steve catches his hand and intertwines it with his. 

"No," he says. "I want...I need to hear you." 

Tony's toes curl as he nods and lets the moans he was holding back slip from his mouth untethered. If anything, they spur Steve on. His bed squeaks with each thrust, and Tony can hear Steve mumbling under his breath, a litany of "I need you," and "So tight, so _good_ ," and "Stay with me." 

Tony should tell him. He should tell Steve he loves him, but something holds him back. He doesn't want Steve to think it was just a spur of the moment ordeal. He wants Steve to be sure that he loves him, that his soul has completely intertwined with Steve's, that they're _one_. It should be perfect. 

So instead of saying I love you, he just lifts Steve's head up to look him in his face. He loves seeing the utter desperation in Steve's face, the euphoria right before he comes, loves knowing that he was the one to bring him to such heights. He sees it now. Steve's on the edge, his hair falling into his eyes, his lips all red and bitten like a smear of blood. 

"Tony, I—"

Steve never finishes his sentence as Tony's tongue slinks into his mouth. Steve moans, kissing him back. One of his hands finds Tony's cock. Tony bucks into his fist, still slick with lube, digs his nails into Steve's back until they're both falling apart. Steve comes inside him with a muffled groan, filling him with a wet heat; meanwhile, Tony feels like his brain is leaking from his ears as his come spurts from his cock and paints both of their stomachs in white. 

When Steve's hand strokes his cheek and comes away wet, Tony realizes that he's crying. Steve kisses his cheeks and his forehead and his nose, and when he finally goes for Tony's mouth, Tony lets out the softest, "Thank you." 

Steve hovers over him. For a moment, Tony thinks he's going to say those three terrifying words. Horror and excitement alike send his stomach rolling, but Steve just says, "Anything for you." 

He's not sure if he should be disappointed or relieved. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this chapter had a lot going on, and I hope I executed it well. This was the first battle scene I've ever written so if it's a little clunky that's why. We're at the halfway point now (unless I change the chapter count again) so things are going to be picking up speed. Chapter 6 will be up...indefinitely. I'll try not to do a disappearing act on you guys. 
> 
> Comments, kudos, bookmarks, etc. are much appreciated. I love seeing what you guys liked, what you think is going to happen, etc. Not only does feedback make me a better writer, it also makes my day. Thanks for reading!
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://imperialstark.tumblr.com)  
> [NSFW Tumblr](https://starrytony.tumblr.com)


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